The Hours Home
by BelleG08
Summary: You. You have taken all of me without giving any back. You have broken me down to nothing; and yet, you have shown me what it is to be alive. Ray/Neela/Simon
1. Chapter 1

**Title: The Hours Home**

**Author: BelleG08**

**Summary: You. You have taken all of me without giving any back. You have broken me down to nothing, and yet you have shown me what it is to be alive.**

**Disclaimer: I own Nothing. This is a Ray/Neela/Simon Fic. Please enjoy and review!**

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It was muggy and humid and definitely not as cold as Chicago, he inwardly shook his head. How silly he must look in the seventy five degree weather, still sporting his frigid-wear as he left Baton Rouge Metropolitan Airport. He was home, sort of. That word still felt somewhat foreign to him. Ray felt like he had just left home, his real one.

He didn't know what he wanted to come out of that trip. All of his other colleagues merely attended a similar conference in their own region in New Orleans. He convinced them and himself that he just wanted to go to Chicago for their line up of lecturers. He was lying.

"Thanks," he smiled to the parking lot attendee, as he retrieved the keys to his new, fully loaded SUV. It was definitely bought on a whim as a form of retail therapy. That was one good thing about working in Baton Rouge. Combining his new, fuller salary with the lower cost of living, Ray Barnett definitely felt like he was at least living like a doctor and not a poor college student.

He smiled. What he wouldn't trade to go back to living like that, like a poor student making a life with his roommate, going grocery shopping, drinking beer in a messy apartment whilst watching poker. It was easier then, a simpler time. It was comfortable. Oh how he missed Neela. He couldn't count how many times he wanted to turn around and go back to her, telling her how ready he was to go at it again. He wanted to so desperately to tell her to take a chance with him.

He smiled as he drove up the onramp to I-10, leading himself back into Baton Rouge. She was radiating, glowing when she looked at him. Her eyes said it all. She cared about him, he knew that for sure. She cared about him after all the time that they were apart. And that was what puzzled him so much. The Neela he knew never would have allowed him to kiss her so many times without a swift nail to the head for retribution. The Neela he knew was so guarded with her feelings. Even though he knew they were there, something happened between then and last night that made his beautiful Dr. Rasgotra decide that she wanted him.

Or at least act like she wanted him.

He shook his head. He was supposed to go to Chicago for clarity, closure. That was his plan – whether it be closing that chapter of wanting and needing his ex-roommate, or taking that next step – it was closure that he longed for. Now he was more confused than ever.

A sudden flash light near his middle consul caught his eye. "Y-ello?" he crooned into the contraption.

"Ray Barnett as I live and breath, glad to see Chicago didn't kill you," Brett LeBeouf laughed out loud.

"Nah, man…just ate me up and spat me out,"

"Doing anything? Or do you want to meet up for a drink? I'm dying for a break,"

Ray quickly checked the time. He wasn't expected anywhere until tomorrow. "See you in fifteen,"

Brett didn't look any different than the last time he had seen him a good four days earlier. To be truthful, he didn't look any different since the first time they met in Ms. Tuminello's kindergarten class. They were both sent to time out for peeing on the wall of the bathroom. The rest was history. He pulled himself to a seat at the same bar they had been going to since the two grew out of their 'red cup' phase.

"How was the weekend, buddy?"

"Boring. Learned about this new technique for stimulating muscle memory quicker after a stroke, like literally hours after the blockage happens. Totally cuts down-" he smiled

Brett rolled his eyes. "So, how was the _windy_ _city_?"

Ray grinned against the mouth of his bottle. "You ask that as if you didn't live there for a good four years of your life,"

"I ask that as if I want to know what you did other than go to a boring conference,"

He put his drink down and shrugged. "I went back to County,"

Brett nodded. "I kind of figured you did. How did that go?"

He shook his head. "It was…refreshing. I don't know. It was so different and exactly the same all at once. It was like going home and someone forgot to tell you that they changed the locks," he laughed. He could picture the admit desk in his head, filled with faces from ages ago.

"It was good, though?"

"It was really good, Brett."

Ray always enjoyed an afternoon drink with his friend and ex-bandmate. Oh the stories he had, just from Chicago alone. But Brett had taken a new lead on his life. The guitarist was now knee deep in paperwork, meetings and administrative duties. Who would have imagined that the same Brett who used to slum it on his couch and run up his bills by using too much hot water was now working a seven to five job at hospital admin.

Some time later, they found themselves in the parking lot, Brett on the outside of Ray's car with him in the driver's seat. They were merely chatting, waiting for the other to leave. After a brief silence, Brett tentatively spoke, "Hey…um, so how was…how was Neela?"

Ray ran a hand through his hair, inwardly laughing that it that long for Brett to graze the subject. He focused his gaze on a fixated point and shrugged, leaning his arm along the window. "She was good, I guess. She looked great. She definitely isn't that mousy roommate that you met," he laughed.

"Did you…" he left off, searching for an answer in Ray's eyes.

"No," Ray finished for him. "We hung out, yeah. But…I don't know. I wanted conclusiveness, definity, and I got an assload of messy 'I don't knows',"

"Nice to know some things don't change, Ray." He patted his arm.

"She's a surgeon now, you know?"

"Really?"

"Yeah, cutting people open. Kicking ass," he somberly laughed. "Yeah, she's. She looked like she was really good," he clenched his fists. Brett didn't quite believe the smile he read across his good friend's face.

"Sounds really good, man. Hey do you want to…?" he motioned back to the bar. "More drinks could make anything feel better,"

"No. No I'm good. I don't know what I was looking for or expecting. I just, I don't know. I think I just want to go home and sleep in my own bed. Shit's tiring," he laughed.

"Ok then. Call me or something, man,"

He drove down the road, drumming his fingers along the steering wheel at the traffic stop. His mind felt blown, what was supposed to happen? Where did he go from there? Was it possible that he had more questions roaming through his mind now than he did after he jumped off the plane?

Damn it.

He grabbed his phone and dialed. "Doctor Phil me, bro,"

Maybe he shouldn't have had that last Jack and coke without the coke. Or maybe he shouldn't have had that last beer. Or maybe he should man up and hold his alcohol better than he was. Any way you looked at it, maybe Ray shouldn't have been pacing back and forth, ranting whatever it was that bothered him.

"And there was that, that guy there – with the hair and the eyes and that really cool Australian accent like Russell Crowe except, you know you want to punch him in the face,"

Brett followed him back and forth. The two must have looked ridiculous. "Man, fuck Russell Crowe man,"

"And then he has this smug ass look on his face like he has something going on with her, which he might, because he showed up at her damn apartment with eighty dollars worth of champagne, which pisses me off by the way. And then I'm like, 'does he know that she likes chai instead of coffee or that she can't cook worth a damn or that the world poker tour is the key to her heart? Or that she likes to steal t-shirts and sleep in them?' No, I'm sure he doesn't. But then I'm like, she's changed so much that maybe there's so many things about her that he knows and I don't, and it makes me want to _kill him_!"

"Then we kill him!" Brett hazza-ed in a drunken haze.

"No. We can't kill him, Brett," Ray shook his head, "Ugh, I'm just. I should be over this right? I should be done with the games. I'm a goddamn doctor. We don't play games,"

"Yes! You're Ray freaking Barnett. You were king of our dorm floor. You shouldn't be sulking. You should be _do_-ing! You should be out there,"

It was as if someone had hit them both behind the head as simultaneously sunk to the bar stools, the alcohol suddenly smashing them at once. "I should be better than this," He shook his head and let it fall to the counter.

He was better than this.


	2. Chapter 2

**Title: The Hours Home**

**Author: BelleG08**

**Summary: You. You have taken all of me without giving any back. You have broken me down to nothing, and yet you have shown me what it is to be alive.**

**Disclaimer: I own Nothing. This is a Ray/Neela/Simon Fic. Please enjoy and review!**

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Chapter 2

Lucien Dubenko did not quite know what it was, but his leading female surgeon had definitely woken up on the wrong side of the bed that morning. Don't be mistaken, she had already perfectly completed an emergency appendectomy by her lonesome chased with a successful heart transplant. He even allowed her to fully take the heart out herself. He knew how much she enjoyed that. But no avail.

There was definitely something eating at Neela Rasgotra that frigid fall day.

"Neela?" Lucien called out to her as he found her near the elevators.

"Yes?" was her curt reply.

"Do you have a minute?"

She shook her head. "No, sorry, can't. I've been paged downstairs. Got to go," she quickly stepped into the elevator and allowed the doors to close. She leaned her head along the old paneling. Gods, this day just would not end.

"Hey, mighty mouse," Archie Morris greeted her with a smile while falling into step with her. "Where are you off to in a hurry?"

"Trauma 2,"

"Oh," he nodded, "Oh hey, I'm having Thanksgiving at my house tomorrow night. You know football in the morning, drinking and general debauchery. I don't know of you're on…but I know that since your plans fell through, you might…Everyone's invited," He stopped at the admit desk.

She winced at his words, continuing to walk. "Thanks Archie. I'll think about it," Taking a deep breath, she burst into the trauma room. "What do we have?" she questioned, allowing Sam to dress her.

"Multiple GSW's to the chest and abdomen," the Australian voice informed her. "Possible bullet fragments, stable, needs to be moved to the OR for removal,"

She turned to the patient. "Hello. I'm Dr. Rasgotra from surgery. Sir, can you hear me?" The victim merely nodded. Using an ultrasound, she thoroughly assessed. "Alright, let's go," Raising the railing, they all began their trek.

"How're you doing, Doctor? I didn't know that you were on today," Dr. Brenner questioned, walking along with the gurney.

"Fine thanks,"

"Okay, well I'll join you all upstairs,"

"No-" she began as he stepped into the elevator with her.

"Nonsense, my patient. I push the gurney. It's a party in the elevator," She could only nod. The fourth floor couldn't come any slower. "Doing anything for Thanksgiving? I know Morris is having his shindig," Neela shrugged. "You're talkative today,"

She let out an exasperated sigh. "I've been on since four yesterday afternoon, and will stay on until four this afternoon. It's only ten o'clock. I'm tired and pissed off and am sick of people asking me about Thanksgiving. I'm not even a bloody American. I can't cook a Turkey or anything else for that matter, and I'm being sued," She inwardly prayed a thanks for the ding of the elevator. They pushed the gurney out, "So no, Simon, I'm not that talkative today,"

His eyes widened as she walked away with the patient. "You need a break, my dear,"

"No, I need a good, stiff drink," She snorted sardonically. She really needed a drink.

"Well, do you want to grab one later?" he offered, his hands open to her.

Without even looking at him, she spoke a firm, "No,"

Hours later, she finally found a moment of down time to herself. Sitting in the break room, she allowed her head to fall to the dingy throw pillow. She didn't even know why she was in such a horrid mood. Of course she had mouthed something off to Simon, but it was only the crazy rants of a fourth year surgical resident who hadn't had a break in eighteen hours. He should remember what it was like to still be under people.

It was torture sometimes, not having full control. And if Neela Rasgotra knew one thing true about herself, it was that she was a totally and complete control freak. But at that point, control was the last thing she had.

The young surgeon ran a tired hand through her dark tresses. It was all a mess: a huge, fat, big, messy, messy mess. But who was she kidding? She'd had long hours before, much longer than this shift and survived. And she had done Thanksgiving ever since she'd moved across the pond. And as scared as she may be, she knew that her lawyers wouldn't dare let anything happen to her, even if her babied intern botched the case. That's what they were being paid for. So what on earth was it that was eating her up alive?

She shook her head in annoyance. Why did she even have to ask herself that question? The floppy-haired, Cheshire-cat smiled, newly transferred Ray Barnett answer was the only thing that took her mind these past few weeks.

What did she expect, though? That he would come here and just pick up where they left off? That he would continue to relentlessly chase her in vain? That he still loved her and wanted her to drop everything and be with him, that he would do his best again to convince her that he was the right person for her? That nothing had changed and they could go back to the way they used to be?

Oh how she wished he would have said those things. Oh how she prayed that he would.

But he didn't.

Apparently he was in a 'good place now' and he thought she was too. She scoffed. Which Dr. Rasgotra had he seen? Because it surely wasn't she.

She was so far from a good place. Take out your compass and she would show you how far from a good place she actually was. But he knew that didn't he? He always knew everything that went on in her head; it used to terrify her, the way he knew everything. Ray was just too much of a gentleman to read her thoughts aloud and give her a damn big 'I told you so'.

She could have sworn that he knew how much she loved him from the way she looked at him, the way she ached to feel his lips on hers, from the way she watched out the window for hours after he left. He had to have known that she wanted him to stay.

She needed him to stay. But he still left.

Words could never describe what fireworks went off inside of her the minute he removed that Frankenstein façade. She would never be able to say how proud she was of him as he stood strong, so starkly contrasted from the last time they had been in such close proximities. He was his old self, except perfect-er, if possible. He had grown up tremendously and everyone took notice.

She found herself smiling, beaming even, at the mere thought of that perfect day. She wasn't just beaming. She was grinning like an idiotic fool. Wiping her face off, Neela stood and began to pace. She thought that everything had fallen into place the second he took off his mask. She thought that it was all alright then. She thought that she finally wouldn't be lost anymore. She thought that she would finally let her guard down and be his when he asked. She knew that she would finally relent when he asked her to, since he always asked.

Except he never did. He never once pushed her or asked her to come away with him. He did not even accept her offer to spend the night.

But would he have? She didn't know. She was still trying to get over the could have – would have – should haves. If only Brenner hadn't interrupted them when he did, if only she had just ignored the sounds, if only she ran after him, then where would they be? She didn't know. But she couldn't. She couldn't push him. She had no right to push him back to the place where he used to be, after all of his touts of being better.

He had moved on. She just didn't realize how much so until recently. He had a _girlfriend_. He had a girlfriend who he met at a _gym_. Maybe she just had a good body and was sweaty when they met. She laughed. Who was she kidding? He had a girlfriend who was serious enough to have Thanksgiving dinner with, in another state, who he spent his time with and probably watched movies with on the couch. Maybe he even DVR-ed her favorite programs. And he only met her. A sudden pang stabbed her hardening heart, and it all finally made sense.

Ray didn't come back to see her for a beautiful, poetic reconciliation.

Ray came back for closure so that he could finally move on with his life. And move on he did.

She sat down and let her head fall to her hands. He deserved closure at the very least. So as much as it hurt her heart, Neela had to let her dear Ray Barnett go.


	3. Chapter 3

**Title: The Hours Home**

**Author: BelleG08**

**Summary: You. You have taken all of me without giving any back. You have broken me down to nothing, and yet you have shown me what it is to be alive.**

**Disclaimer: I own Nothing. This is a Ray/Neela/Simon Fic. **

**NOTE: Thank you all so much for your supportive reviews! I hope this does not dissapoint!**

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This was a horrible, horrible mistake.

She stood awkwardly near the fireplace, clutching her red wine goblet tightly in her right hand. Neela hated parties. She had always hated parties. She felt she was far too socially awkward to be allowed to mingle with people. She was always that one guest who never really mastered the art of small talk. She would somehow manage to babble on about a perforated ulcer she corrected that day or worse, organic chemistry. That's why she clung to her drink for dear life. At least with an elevated blood alcohol content, she would loosen up a bit.

But this was almost torture. Apparently when Morris said that 'everyone was invited', he fully meant everyone, including his very drunk friend, who through an incredibly graceless, slurry conversation conveyed that he was in fact, Archie's fraternity brother from college.

"So where did you do your undergrad?" He inadvertently spit on her. Neela felt like she was going to throw up.

"Yale,"

"SO WHERE DID YOU DO YOUR UNDERGRAD?!" he shouted with a drunken smile. Much to her dismay, it caused a great number of eyes to rest on them.

Her face deadpanned. "Oh my god," She rolled her eyes.

The guest laughed. "It's a joke! Yale, _yell_. I asked it again, except I _yale_-ed," he slapped his thigh, accidentally spitting on her again, "Have you heard that one before?"

She plastered on a fake grin, wiping her face this time, "Once or twice, yes,"

Yes, this was definitely a very bad mistake. She should have just stayed home and watched some TV, maybe some Chinese food also. Yes, that seemed to be much better. Actually, anything would have been better at that point in time. Not to mention the fact that the only other people she knew there were already drunk. Why her body was metabolizing the alcohol much better than everyone else's was a very mean question that she could not answer. She took another sip of her drink. Something stronger was definitely needed. As if reading her mind, the former bane of her existence swooped in for the save, a tumbler in hand.

"Need something new?" Simon grinned, handing her a drink. She nodded in thanks, a small smile on her lips. "Simon Brenner," the Aussie introduced himself, holding his hand out to the inebriated man.

"Oh cool, you've got an accent too," he accepted the beer that Simon offered.

"That I do," he chuckled, rocking back on his heels, "Hey, you know I heard Archie over there telling some stories about you from college. You should go and make sure he's remembering them correctly," he pointed over his shoulder to the living room where Morris was standing on the coffee table, his arms flailing about.

"Oh thanks, man! Arch, you liar!" he turned to Neela, "We will finish this later," with a wink, he ambled over, not before stumbling a bit.

Neela shook her head, turning to Brenner. "Thank you,"

"You looked cornered,"

"Well, according to my new friend, I have the voice of his third wife,"

He smiled. "And how many times has he been married?"

"Twice," She nodded, taking a swig. It burned her throat, thoroughly causing the young woman to blink and strain her lips. "That's strong,"

"I heard Archie humming something along the lines of '_Tequila makes you stupid'_," he laughed in a sing-songy voice. "It's like a house full of Morris's. Strong drinks are the only ones allowed," he motioned over to two empty seats.

"When did you get here?"

"A little while ago, I had to make an appearance at the Anspaugh family Turkey Roast first. Nothing fun, just a big house full of family members asking if I was married, to which they followed with an '_I know a lovely young woman_' speech. Needed to get out of there quickly," He leaned forward, resting his elbows against his slack-covered knees.

"Ah, speaking of lovely young women. Where's your young girlfriend?" she questioned over her glass, crossing her legs.

He smiled. "Oh, she went home for the holiday,"

Her eyebrow quirked, "And you didn't go with her?"

Simon blew some air and laughed, "Meeting the family? No indeed, we're not that serious," She sputtered on her drink slightly. Of course, meeting the family was _always_ serious. Gods, the holidays royally sucked. "Expecting a call?" he asked, noticing Neela's incessant glances towards the i-phone in her hand.

"What?" she quickly shook her head. Her cheeks began to feel hot as she clenched the phone tightly.

"A call? Are you expecting a call? You keep on looking down at your phone," he tapped her hand.

"Oh, no," she shut her eyes. "Yes," she stammered. "Kind of, yes,"

"Ok, ok, no pressure in answering," he laughed.

"I'm just," she cursed herself. Damn her crappy social skills. "It's complicated,"

"Uh huh," he nodded, clicking his tongue. "So you're not really flying that solo?"

Oh she wished. "No. Kind of," she shook her head hastily, obviously showing an inner battle. "No. I'm not seeing anyone still,"

Damn. She did it again. She backed herself into the proverbial corner. There it was: the awkward silence. Damn, damn, damn. She took a healthy swig of her drink finishing it to the last drop, not caring that it burned her throat raw. She placed it on the coaster near her.

"Empty!" The voice rang in her ears. Morris came up next to her, pulling Neela up by the elbow tightly. "Empty drinks. No empty drinks allowed!" he scooped her tumbler. "You wouldn't mind if I talked to her a second, Simon?" He held onto her arm, making sure she could not make an escape.

Brenner stood. "Go right ahead. I think Frank's about to finish all of the oyster appetizers anyway. I definitely wanted to try one,"

They watched as he walked away.

"Ouch!" Neela exclaimed, She rubbed her funny bone profusely as he pulled her to the side. She shot him a dirty look before smacking the attending upside his fiery red-head, "Morris, what is wrong with you?"

"Why are you fraternizing with him?"

"Your friend? I'm pretty sure he was fraternizing with _me_," she subconsciously shivered.

"Not him," Shaking his head incredulously, he pointed in the Australian's direction.

"Simon? Because he's the only one here who isn't drunk off their arses," she pointed her finger into his chest, "And he's _your_ guest,"

"He's trouble,"

"So is that metallic tub of beer in the corner, but you didn't see me yanking you away from it whilst you did your third keg-stand," She rolled her eyes. "Please, Archie. He's involved with someone and we were merely talking. It's not like we were shagging in the coat closet,"

"Yeah well I've done a lot 'shagging in the coat closets' in my day," he air quoted, "And let me tell you, they've all started with talking,"

"You're daft," she began to walk away.

"Hey, wait," he called her back. He held his hands out in a shy question. "How's Ray?"

Letting out a huff of frustration, she shrugged, folding her arms tightly across her chest. "I don't really know. He's in Georgia with some girlfriend of his. He's probably sitting back, drinking, and having a great time, being the David Bowie, Casanova-esque, Johnny Depp, rebel-without-a-cause, smooth-talking doctor that he always has been," she took a deep breath and slowed down, vainly attempting to rub the aggravation from her face. Being truthful was proving to be as painful as she expected. "His flying out on the holidays to be with some girlfriend is nothing new to me,"

"Neela," Archie started softly, moving towards her.

Neela stepped back, needing the distance. "I'm fine. I'm hungry, but I'm fine."

He smiled, suddenly welcoming her change in subject. Rubbing his hands together, he began to brag of their scrumptious meal. "Well, just your luck. We've got a perfectly Cajun thanksgiving. I got everything sent in from with East Jesus Land, Louisiana: Deep fried Turducken, crawfish and Andouille stuffing, boudin balls, Oysters Bienville, gumbo. Ray set me up with this great guy. He's hilarious, says they were neighbors growing up-" he caught himself. He hung his head sheepishly. "I mean…dinner's right up,"

She shook her head. She hated being treated like something little and fragile. "It's fine. I'll be over in a minute."

Neela walked outside, onto the snow-covered terrace. Archie had a lovely view of the Chicago skyline. From where she stood, she could see the Sears building, the Smurfit-Stone building, the Chase Tower. To be truthful, the sight made her incredibly nostalgic of her old home, the apartment that she and Ray shared. Oh the memories they had there. No, it didn't have the million dollar view that this terrace did, but it was worth just as much, even more.

She inhaled slowly, reveling in the cold air as it burned her insides. It was now or never. Resolutely touching her phone, she closed her eyes and prayed for the voicemail.

"_Hey, it's Ray. Sorry I missed your call. Rock the beep."_

"Hey, Ray," she spoke timidly. "I know we spoke only a few days ago. But, I erm, I just wanted to wish you a Happy Thanksgiving. I hope you're having a great time in… Georgia. I bet the weather's much nicer there than here. It's freezing outside, as you can imagine. I, um, I hope that I'm not bothering you. We're just having dinner at Archie's. Surprisingly, it's not too horrid. He told me how you got him connected with a great foodie man. It all smells really good," she shut her eyes. She was rambling. "Anyways, I just wanted to wish you a happy night and-"

"Neela, we're about to eat," Simon poked his head outside. Noticing that she was on the phone, he raised his hand in apology, pointing inside. She acknowledged him with a nod.

"Well I need to go," she inhaled deeply again. "Good night, Ray. Happy Thanksgiving,"

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Thank you tremendously! Please don't hate the Simon/Neela interaction! I figure it all needs to be broken before it's all fixed right?


	4. Chapter 4

**Title: The Hours Home**

**Author: BelleG08**

**Summary: You. You have taken all of me without giving any back. You have broken me down to nothing, and yet you have shown me what it is to be alive.**

**Disclaimer: I own Nothing. This is a Ray/Neela/Simon Fic. **

**NOTE: Thank you again for your awesome reviews!**

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**Chapter 4**

Sometimes, their bromance really just chapped his ass.

"_Georgia_? You said you were going to Thanksgiving with your _girlfriend_ in _Georgia_?" Brett laughed incredulously.

"Shut up," Ray shook his head, suddenly regretting telling his friend the awful truth.

"You don't have a girlfriend, dude. And you blatantly turned down Cam's invite to Georgia. I remember. I was there,"

"Shove it, Brett,"

"I'm sorry," the bruin young man patted his dejected friend on the shoulder. "This is just too great to pass up,"

Ray plastered on a fake smile. "Well thanks, buddy. I'm glad this gives you your jollies,"

Brett popped open his beer, plopping down on the couch next to him. "I just don't get why you would have to lie about that,"

"Yeah, well me neither. I kind of panicked,"

"Panicked?" he raised a brow, "About Thanksgiving plans?"

"Well when you say it like that…"

"It still sounds incredibly stupid," Brett shook his head. "Maybe you subconsciously wish that you actually took Cam up on her offer and went with her to see her family. Obviously, she wants to take that proverbial 'next step'" he quoted.

"Maybe you subconsciously need to get a life and stop trying to analyze mine," Ray barked, leaning his head into his worn couch.

"I just call it like I see it, man. Plus, it's not like you don't ask for it," He pointed the nose of his bottle into Ray's face. "You, dude, have a problem,"

"Oh yeah?" Ray probed, "Humor me, 'Dumbass-dore'. What's my problem?"

"You don't know how to let go,"

"Really," he feigned intrigue.

"Yes really. You can't let go. It's not in your blood,"

Ray pouted, an eyebrow shooting up. "Me? Need I remind you of the list?"

Brett rolled his eyes. "The list means shit now,"

"That list," Ray motioned to the proverbial list at his right, "Was living proof of what badasses we were in our prime. I think I still have it somewhere inside,"

"That list is in the past,"

"A different chick every night,"

"A different chance of a venereal disease,"

"A different chick every morning,"

"A different case of _'oh shit, that isn't your name? Well I'm sorry I called you Tiffany all night. My bad,'_"

Ray grunted in frustration. "I can let go. I always let go. I'm always the _first_ to let go!"

A smile slowly crossed Brett's face. "Well therein lies the problem, you didn't let her go. She was the first girl who dumped you," he proclaimed triumphantly.

Ray exhaled louder than he meant to. "There was never a relationship to dump," he muttered bitterly.

Something sparkled in his friend's eye. "Then what's holding you back from tapping that perfect peace of pastry chef boo-tay?"

"Your vulgarity blows my mind sometimes,"

Brett sniggered. "This coming from the man who just a second ago tried to prove to me how much of a whore he was," he let his eyes graze over the football game playing. "No seriously, what is holding you back? Cam's been trying to get all in your business since you had that oh so _'You've Got Mail'_ –ish meeting at the gym,"

"No she hasn't," he quickly rebutted.

Brett's face deadpanned. "You two haven't even been out on a proper date and the girl already invited you to meet the family for Thanksgiving,"

"She feels sorry for me because I have a 33 year old child named Brett,"

"Whatever. She likes you, dude,"

Miss LSU 2004, Cameron McCrae was beautiful, smart, friendly, cultured and a kickass cook. She spoke everything from Japanese to Wolfmother. And for some reason beyond Ray's comprehension, she was head over heels for him, all of him.

Why or how, though? He had no clue. He had been seeing her around the gym for a while. She would always come in, doing the same routine: thirty minutes on the treadmill, thirty minutes on the elliptical, thirty minutes on the spin bike, and then another thirty minutes back on the treadmill to finish it up. She radiated, from her raven black hair to her golden tan skin. She just glowed goodness.

She approached him at the smoothie counter after he did his shot of morning protein. It was a day when he felt particularly naked. He didn't have any clean long pants, so he wore shorts, something he still wasn't incredibly comfortable doing yet. But it was as if she didn't even notice. She merely commented on his jacket, asking where he got it from. She was looking for one for her little brother.

And so began their fragile détente, drinks here and there, parties this night and that, lunch when they both could make the time. And they had been going on for a month.

She was only his friend though, Ray ceaselessly insisted. He made sure of it, always doing the high school group thing at the bar or dinner. But she stayed true, smiling and accepting every step of the way. She was sweet. She was Cam.

So when she boldly asked him, over a cup of bad coffee, to go to Georgia with her for Thanksgiving to be with her family, he was taken aback, not quite knowing what to do. What could he say? _"I'm sorry, Cam. I'm not dating anyone, but there is this girl who I've liked for a super long time who kind of maybe likes me back but I don't know and have never really known?"_ No. Even if it were the god awful truth, that couldn't be a good let-down speech. So he found an easier, less truthful way of declining.

He had to work.

Which was completely untrue since he had no work for two whole days that Thanksgiving week, call it wishful thinking, but Ray almost believed that Neela would do some grand gesture…like buy a two-hundred dollar plane ticket and finally visit him.

Wishful thinking.

"Jesus Christ, you are such a girl," Brett laughed.

"What?" Ray snapped his head. "What?"

"You lied to your little surgeon to make her _jealous_. You wanted to get a rise out of her!" he pointed mercilessly at his friend. "Dude, that's sad,"

Ray shifted in his seat uncomfortably. "Yeah. Sure. Whatever,"

"Admit it, man. You were trying to pull the jealousy card,"

He blinked profusely, he needed to stop telling Brett things. "Ok. Fine, I guess. Look, what was I supposed to do? Tell her that I was sharing a turkey that night with my mom and my Brett who used to take showers at our apartment,"

"She remembers me. I'm sure," Brett winked. "And I think that would be a fine start," he let his mouth move to a half-smile. "Did it work?"

"Did what work?"

"How did she take it? Did you get a rise out of her?" he leaned forward, thoroughly enthralled.

Ray gave a sardonic snort. "How does Neela always take things? She shrugs and says _'ok, that's great, I'll talk to you later'_," he poorly feigned a British accent.

"Sucks dude," he patted Ray on the shoulder. "Maybe she was just fronting?"

Ray laughed, running a hand through his hair, "Ironically, I think it just pushed her away,"

He could have kicked himself in the butt for the giddiness he felt when he saw her missed call. He smiled, hearing her voice. It always registered a lower timbre, her accent, making anything she said sound like a well-written melody. He laughed to himself, thinking of when they first started working together. In the traumas, sometimes he would lose himself, just listening to her spout off orders. You didn't hear voices like that around there.

What he didn't need was that damn Australian accent cutting her off in the background.

Nothing good came out of that voice.

How stupid he felt. Listening to her message did something within him, gave him something. Hope? Faith? Love? Whatever it was, it made him want to jump out and hitch hike his way all the way to Archie Morris' thanksgiving dinner. That was, until that dick of a doctor interrupted the velvety smoothness that was her voice. It brought him back down to earth.

"Pushed her away?," Brett stared incredulously at him, his hands flailing in front of his body, like a frustrated school teacher. "Where the hell are you, dude?"

"What?" Ray shook his head, willing himself back to reality

"Where'd you go, the moon?" He silently debated whether or not to let his friend in on the phone call that never was. Brett could see the clockworks engineering through his friend's head. Putting down the broom and pan, he sat down on the couch. "What's up?"

Ray let his head snap back. "Argh," he exclaimed, running a hand over his face. "Neela called me on Thanksgiving,"

Brett's brows furrowed to a peak. "What'd she say?"

"She left a message," he shrugged. "Just some Happy Thanksgiving crap, she was rambling on and on about the food and the weather," he chuckled. "She always sucked at small talk," Brett nodded. "And then that guy interrupted,"

"What guy?"

Ray pursed his lips, clearly not amused, "Russell Crowe dude,"

"Oh, wow," his eyes widened, "They were having dinner together?"

"Yeah I guess they were all there together. I don't know," he shrugged. "Maybe they're together,"

"They weren't when you went there, right?"

"No, or I don't know, maybe not officially. But she's kind of a loose canon. You never really know what's going on with her," he let out a puff of air, shaking his head in aggravation. "Dude, when did I become such a melodramatic bore?"

Brett chuckled. "You still really like her, huh?" His voice softened to a very genuine tone.

Ray's face dropped, an almost angry chuckled reverberating from his throat. "I think I'm always going to care about her. You don't just forget those girls who tear out your insides and stomp on them for a few years straight"

His friend leaned forward, resting his forearms on his knees. "My thoughts?"

"Do I have a choice?"

Ignoring his comment, Brett continued, "I think you have one of two things to do," he enumerated on his fingers. "One, you go get your ass up there, be the knight in shining armor, and take back what you think is rightfully yours," a twinkle played in his light eyes, "Or B, strap on your cup, and move on with your life. You can't mope around, wondering 'what if' forever, man,"

Ray couldn't sleep that night. He was thinking too much. He didn't enjoy thinking this much, at least not on matters of the heart. He was a guy. Guy's didn't just stay up at night on his balcony terrace, nursing some tea and staring into the starry sky, pondering life's love questions. But he relented, and he was shamelessly doing all of the above.

Things were so easy with Cam. She was kind of every heterosexual male's dream: straightforward, sweet and incredibly easy on the eyes. She carried no baggage or blatant issues. She was just herself, no games or mind-tricks. Her heart was like a Carebear's, emotions worn on the sleeves and all. He smiled. Girls as genuine as she were one in a million. And to top it off she was there, within a five-mile distance from him domicile. But most importantly, she accepted him whole-heartedly. There was never a time when she made him feel anything less that a full man, no stolen glances below the knees or awkward questions. She allowed things to be done on his terms. If nothing else, Cam respected Ray.

And then there was Neela.

The sad truth was that he was scared, terrified even. So much of him felt like it was their last chance, now or never, he and Neela.

He made that effort of going to her. He crossed the long way that was the kinks in their lost friendship. It was he who finally initiated their conversations again, he who flew in to see her, he who pulled her close, smelling her sweet hair for the impromptu dance. It was he who kissed her first. It was always he who kissed her first.

But what is it that she did? Apologize profusely for something that he now accepted not to be her fault? Stare out the window when he clearly wanted her to finally put forth the effort to fight back for him? Say that it was _great_ that he was going to Georgia with his farce of a significant other?

He rubbed his eyes in irritation. Was it impatience that was wearing him down? Or that aching feeling in the pit of his stomach that he wasn't at the end of the battle? Either way, Ray just didn't think he had the energy for another round in the ring with her. There were too many questions piled up in his head, waiting for answers that he somehow felt just weren't going to come.

His hand wavered over the mechanism on the table as his mind pounded with uncertainties.

Maybe his lie truly was an act of conscience, a test to see what his beloved Neela would do when faced with prospect of him with someone else.

And maybe she just failed with flying colors.

With a deep inhale, he grabbed his telephone, dialing a familiar number. A groggy feminine voice answered on the other end.

"Hey, Cam," he slowly smiled into the receiver. "I'm sorry if I woke you up," he let out the breath he was holding, "You busy?"

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Author's Note: Eek? another bump in the road?!?!?

I hope you enjoy this! Happy Thanksgiving, you guys!


	5. Chapter 5

**Title: The Hours Home**

**Author: BelleG08**

**Summary: You. You have taken all of me without giving any back. You have broken me down to nothing, and yet you have shown me what it is to be alive.**

**Disclaimer: I own Nothing. This is a Ray/Neela/Simon Fic. **

**NOTE: Thank you again for your awesome reviews!**

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**Chapter 5**

"Seriously? Season fifty-yard line seats for the Saints?" he gaped.

She nodded with a small smile, "Yeah. Back when I worked as an accountant, I was privy to the tickets. When I quit, they still let me keep them," she squinted, "Or they maybe just forgot that I still had them in my name. Either way, I've got two front and center. I could slap Reggie Bush's butt from where they are,"

He laughed. "I've only been down there a few times. Not since they've picked up their game though,"

"Well, then you'll just have to come with me," she nudged his arm as he drove her home. "Plus, I don't really have the time to go with the shop and everything,"

"Ah, hah that infamous _Cupcakery_ that I see down my street every morning when I drive to work,"

"Cupcakes kind of call out your name," she laughed.

"What's that running slogan you always have?" he glanced sideways at her.

She put her fingers up, "You can't buy a cake everyday, but you can always drop in for a cupcake,"

He chuckled. "I think that's quite possibly the girliest type of place you could ever own. It's ten times worse than a little boutique or something,"

"How do you figure that?"

He raised an eyebrow. "You put mounds of pink icing on everything,"

"It's not just pink!" she defended herself. "Cream cheese, chocolate, vanilla-"

"Vanilla that's colored pink. It feels like I'm eating a Barbie when i bite into it," he chuckled.

Her eyes dropped. "Thank you,"

He shrugged, a flirtatious smile playing on his lips. "Hey, just customer opinion, I'm just letting you know how you're doing,"

Dinner was nice. The movie was even better and the ride home was just icing on the cake, no pun intended. Ray couldn't remember the last time he had such a laid back time with a girl on a date, the last time he didn't feel so incredibly awkward or trying too hard. She was effortlessly fun. Anything would make her laugh or smile. Cam was just genuinely a good time.

He pulled up in front of her small house, making his way around to the other side of his vehicle, opening the door for her and walking her in. Her place was just as he would expect it to be: perfectly manicured on the outside, flowers lining the porch even in the winter time. She had the classic New Orleans torch lighting outside of her French front doors. Her house just screamed girl.

"Thank you," she told him truthfully, her voice quiet.

He grinned, standing outside of her door. "My pleasure,"

"We should do it again," Cam insinuated, a sparkle glistening in her golden eyes.

"That was the plan," And with that quip, he leaned forward, touching his lips to hers in a light, sweet, perfectly lovely kiss. She placed her warm hands on either side of his face, fully reveling in the contact. Slowly, he pulled back, a smile playing on his pouty lips. "Good night, Cam,"

She whispered, "Good night,"

He waited for her to turn on her lights inside before walking away. He smiled to himself, as he drove home; his car still smelled like her, flowery. He wasn't very much into flowers, so he didn't quite know what kind it was. He was just very sure that it smelled like the front of a super market on Mother's Day Weekend.

Ray was exhausted. He pulled a full shift today. And his body was paying for it. So as nice as his condo was, he never understood what compelled him to get one on the top floor. Maybe it was his damn pride right after the accident, not wanting to live with his mother and not wanting the handicapped place on the first level. Not that elevator lift didn't work fine, it was just days like this when he felt incredibly lazy and exhausted.

It felt like forever until he finally made it to his front door. Lugging his bag on one shoulder, he shoved his key in. Flipping the lights, he narrowed his eyes.

He didn't leave the television on.

He dropped his bag. What he saw on the couch somehow didn't surprise him one bit.

"Brett, what the hell are you doing in my house!?" he bellowed, waking the sleeping young man. The tube of Pringles laying across his lap catapulted into the air, sending chips a-flying. "Ugh," he rolled his eyes, seeing the mess made. "You're cleaning this crap up,"

"What's the deal, man? You're not supposed to wake people up like that! You're a doctor. You know that stuff," He complained, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

"That's for sleep-walkers, dillweed. I could have punched you in the face and it would be medically sound," he walked to his utility room, pulling out the broom and dustpan. He stood, holding them, waiting for Brett to get up. Ray shoved the cleaning equipment in his face.

"I had a bunch of paperwork to do at the hospital and your place is much closer to The Lake than mine is. I was so tired,"

"So your inconvenience is my cross to bear?"

"I've got baggage," he shrugged. "And you don't have any food."

"Yes I do," he snatched the remote from the still unaware man's hand, "And it's all over my floor," he eased himself down to his recliner, a triumphant smile playing on his lips. "How did you get into my home?"

"Your spare key on top of the door frame," he said matter-of-factly before bending over to clean up.

"Dude, what if I brought her back here?"

An unimpressed look crossed the man's face. "Please. We both know you're not that much of a slut anymore," he shrugged. "And it's the south. We hook up at the chick's place,"

Ray opened his mouth for a rebuttal before closing it again. He nodded. Brett had a point there. "Whatever. Anyway, why are you here, other than being incredibly girly for wanting details,"

"I didn't even ask!"

"I read minds,"

"Well, now that you mention it…how was it?"

"Nice,"

"How was Cam?"

"Good,"

"Ok, have we graduated from one word answers and moved on to phrases?"

He smiled, pulling a beer from his refrigerator. "Very good,"

Brett scoffed. "You're a bastard,"

"You're a trespasser, Brett," he motioned to the floor, "And a vandal,"

"You've got a rod stuck up your-"

Ray shot him a look, pointing his finger, "Hey, no bitching," He leaned back in the recliner.

Throwing the contents of the dustpan into the waste basket, Brett smiled. "So you had a good time?"

Ray shrugged, smirking slightly, "Yeah. I did,"

The two sat back, watching _The Late Late Show_ for awhile, before Brett stood up to retrieve something from his bag in the corner. "Hey," he started. "I, uh. I got a job offer a couple of days ago. I just wanted to know what you thought about it," He handed Ray a stapled batch of papers.

He took it, staring down at the writing, before emitting a groan of disapproval. "A pharmaceutical rep? Ugh, don't be a pharmaceutical representative. Those guys are sleezes. We hate you guys,"

"Well I don't have a passion for drawing up documents every damn day in an office that smells like band-aids,"

Ray chuckled, "Then do something else,"

"Something else that'll pay me," he grabbed the papers out of the man's hands, pointing to the number on his contract, "_That_ may zeros to travel and give out free pens? No, I think I'll take it,"

"What happened to getting my opinion?"

"I don't want it anymore,"

"Sell out," he shrugged with a resolute smile. "But hey, if it gets you to stop breaking and entering into my place, then go for it, Bro,"

Brett's eyes widened. "I had the key!"

Ray sat back, reading over a few periodicals that he had put off from the week. He shook his head with a chuckle, glancing over to where Brett was yet again snoring on the couch. A sudden vibration at the table removed him from his work. Phone calls weren't that uncommon with his friends that late at night.

What he didn't quite expect was who it was from.

"Hello?" he smiled into the receiver.

A nervous British voice rapidly replied. "Hey, Ray. I'm sorry, are you busy?"

Shutting his laptop screen, he walked to his bedroom. Ray chuckled at her speaking "No, not at all," Shutting the door quietly, he allowed himself to lean back on his bed, "What's going on?"

Hundreds of miles away, Neela sat on her couch, blushing into her telephone. Words could never describe what type of battle raged within her for the past half an hour, fighting whether or not to call. What pushed her to finally do it, she did not know.

"Nothing really, I just got home from work. I uh, I was actually at Grand Rounds today. I was in the middle of this lecture and I don't even know what the doctor was talking about because I was so distracted by this thing hanging from his nostril. And all I could think about was 'god, if ray were here, we'd have to leave because we would be laughing so hard',"

Ray laughed. "Like that time in our first year when Anspaugh-"

"Kept passing gas next to us during Lucien's talk, yes!" she laughed. "Gods, I was just like, 'I need to call Ray and tell him about this',"

He smiled, leaning his head against his head board. "I'm glad you called,"

She bit her lip. "Me too,"

It wasn't until the sun came up that the two even thought of getting off the phone with each other. It seemed like another dimension that they were in, speaking of nothing and everything at the same time in the dark of the night. They laughed and laughed and giggled and reminisced of old times. There was no malice in their voices or lingering questions, surprisingly. They spoke as friends, as if nothing had ever changed.

"Yeah, I should be going too," she agreed, silently wanting to not. "I'm on again at noon,"

"Oh, God, I'm sorry I kept you so long," he glanced at the clock on his right, reading a nice six a.m.

"No," she disagreed, much too eagerly. She cleared her throat, "No. I mean, I'm kind of an insomniac now, So it would have either been speaking to you or watching infomercials. And I already have a Lean Mean Grilling Machine, so,"

He laughed, pointing his fingers, "No, do you have that Magic Bullet Blender? Don't, because it really doesn't blend all that well,"

"No, I don't. I kind of wanted it, but now I know better," she shook her head.

It again took another hour for the two to speak again of good-byes.

"My mom's doing well," he whispered into the phone, his head lying down on his down pillow. "She's my mom you know. She's always checking up on me,"

"Mum's do that, Ray," she smiled, resting her own head against the arm of the couch. "You need a little woman's touch in life," She suddenly regretted saying such. Reality came crashing down around her. And it was as if she could not stop what came out of her mouth next. "How's your girlfriend?"

Gods. She was all levels of masochistic.

Ray's mouth went dry for a moment. And he began to stammer, "I, uh, I…She's,"

"I'm sorry," she quickly apologized. "I'm sorry,"

"No," he murmured, rolling his eyes for even telling her, "She's fine,"

A lump formed in her throat. "Good," she nodded more to herself than the being on the other line, "I think I should go,"

"Neela," he started.

"No. I should probably try to get some rest. You too, it's already seven," she shut her eyes, embarrassed beyond belief.

He nodded his head, staring at the sun outside of his fourth floor window. "Ok," he exhaled loudly, "Can I…Can I call you later?" Her eyes widened. "Like, after work?"

A small smile crossed her mouth, incredibly grateful for his overlook in her social awkwardness. "I would like that, a lot,"

"Me too…Hey, Neela?"

"Yes," she scolded herself for replying so quickly.

He shut his eyes tightly, knowing full and well what he was about to say, "I miss you,"

She beamed, butterflies fluttering in her stomach, allowing herself to revel in the little joy of his words.

"I miss you too, Ray,"

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Thanks everyone! I hope you had a great Thanksgiving!


	6. Chapter 6

**Title: The Hours Home**

**Author: BelleG08**

**Summary: You. You have taken all of me without giving any back. You have broken me down to nothing, and yet you have shown me what it is to be alive.**

**Disclaimer: I own Nothing. This is a Ray/Neela/Simon Fic. **

**NOTE: I'm sorry it took so long to review. I'm a bit of a perfectionist :( Warning: this could be a difficult chapter to swallow. **

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**Chapter 6**

There was never a distinct passing of the seasons there in Chicago. It was always cold in the late and early parts of the year. There was snow, much of it. And when the sun did dare to show its cowardice face, it only shamefully hid behind the trees and clouds.

Not that Neela was ever able to notice any of it, ever.

She stared out of the window of the patient's room, painfully answering every minute question that the young victim's mother had. No, the swelling will not subside within the hour. Yes, He will make a full recovery. No, I don't think that he will be able to play in this week's championship football game. It felt like ages before she was finally out of the post-op recovery room.

Pulling off her cap, she ran a tired hand across the back of her neck. This knot just refused to go away.

"Tired, doctor?"

"Oh, hello," she replied, rather sullenly.

"You're particularly cheerful," he fell into step with her.

She rolled her eyes. "And you're particularly in my business today, aren't you?" she snapped. He bit the side of his mouth, obviously taken aback by her snappiness. She shook her head. "Sorry. Of course I'm tired, Simon,"

She had spent all night on the phone. Not that she minded. She just regretted sitting around for hours afterwards trying to analyze the conversation as opposed to actually going to sleep. Not being in a relationship was not only incredibly lonely, but fully exhausting.

He smiled. "Care for dinner?"

She shook her head, her lips falling to a thin line. "Not really,"

"Oh come on, I've got reservations,"

"You also have a girlfriend who I'm sure would enjoy those reservations infinitely more than I would," she shook her head quickly. "Plus, I don't have a break,"

"Uh," he looked to the side, lowering his voice. "As of late, I too am flying the solo plane,"

"What?" her eyebrows furrowed. "What happened to the whole '_it could be something_' thing?"

He laughed, "Ironically enough, the girl who I actually wanted to have a something with was, in fact, not looking for anything at all," they stopped at the elevator. "She told me that she had much too much going on for anything else,"

"I'm sorry," she thoughtfully replied, stepping into the lift. She suddenly felt rather guilty, being so quick to shoot him down for dinner.

"I'm a big boy," he brushed it off, clearly not wanting to speak anymore of the subject. She gladly adhered. Relationships were hexed in her book. Too bad for him, though. They stood silent for a moment, waiting to reach the first floor.

There was always something very habitual about coming back down there. As annoyed as she was with the incessant pages and consults, the group on one would forever seem like home to her. The ER floor was always much more hectic than any other in the building, the most unpredictable, the loudest, the craziest place there was at County General Hospital. Yet the young doctors stood stagnant and statuesque as she walked by with their attending. The coffee in their hands stirred still. Their fingers wavered over the mouse near the computer. Andrew looked as if he were about to cry.

Neela frowned.

"Why is everyone so cagey of me?" She posed the question as the two walked into the lounge.

Simon chuckled, holding the door open for her. "You're a little bit of a hardass,"

"I am not a hardass," she shook her head. "I am… thorough and meticulous. I don't take my job lightly,"

He handed her a cup of coffee, "You eat little baby interns for breakfast,"

Neela deadpanned. "Shut up,"

He shrugged with a smile. "You asked,"

She sat back on the other side of the couch, tending to the warm drink in her hands. "I'm serious about what I do,"

He leaned back, resting his arm across the edge of the couch. "And no one will ever fault you for that until you do exactly what you're doing now,"

"And what's that?"

"Making your life County, you know, some others actually enjoy seeing the outside world,"

She rolled her eyes. Where had she heard that before? "You know, I would think, some people would be very happy to hear that the who was woman slicing them open thought of nothing else in life other than surgery," Neela was quick to defend herself.

He lifted a blond brow. "You're sad,"

She sat back, shaking her head in defeat. "God, I know,"

Archie Morris strolled in no sooner. He fell to seat between the two on the dingy couch. "Drinks tonight?" he wiggled his red brows at Neela.

"Dr. Rasgotra doesn't get breaks," Simon pointed out.

Morris squinted. "You're off later. Drinks? Everyone's going,"

"I don't know," she grumbled. "The interns may run off if I rear my ugly face,"

"Nonsense," Simon smiled, rising to his feet. "They'll sense your _thorough and meticulous_ self from a block away," He tossed his cup into the nearby trash before walking out with a wink.

Archie's eyes followed the haughty foreigner out the door before turning back to his companion. "No breaks?" he questioned, turning back to Neela.

She fluttered her eyes in frustration. "He asked me to dinner. I told him I was too busy. No breaks – the excuse works much better on someone who doesn't have your schedule at his disposal,"

"Dude can't get the picture," he snorted, still eyeing her surreptitiously.

She was still staring at the door he left through. He wasn't quite as bad as she thought. Still a prick, though, but definitely out of the '_I hate your guts with a heavy passion_' phase. "I really am busy, though,"

"Well come on, drinks at Ike's. Maybe if the interns see you loosen up, it'll melt their frigidness," his eyebrows arched. "I mean really, a wasted Neela is always a good laugh,"

She shot him a dirty look, rising to her feet. "I need to go,"

"Hey Neela-" he started

God, she had heard this introduction one too many times from the scarlet haired doctor.

She stood at the door, her hand up, stopping him. "I swear to god, Archie, if the next words out of your mouth are asking me about Ray, I'll surgically remove your testicles,"

"But-"

She narrowed her dark eyes, "With a rusty butter knife,"

His eyes popped at the gory imagery of her threat, he shut his mouth in a snap. She waited a moment to compose herself before marching out of the break room.

Maybe she shouldn't have been so harsh to Morris, or maybe she did what she did to protect herself, either way Neela was stressed. She was lost. She felt like a shell. She felt as if she were watching herself motion through life. Success was at her fingertips, money only a few years away, happiness should have fallen into place already, right? Neela couldn't remember the last time she was happy.

There was always something missing.

There, however, was nothing missing from her extra large fishbowl of alcoholic goodness at Ike's later on that night.

She swooned, lapping up the final blue contents of the giant glass.

"See," Archie smiled, nudging the sloshed doctor, "I told you drinks out would be fun,"

"I'm good," she slurred to whomever was listening. The interns all laughed loudly around the bar. Apparently, she was much more comfortable to be around when her judgment was clouded. "More! Another round!" she called our merrily, "On me!" Various cheers could be heard from the drunken ER staff.

"Hold it," Simon settled. He turned to the waitress. "Close her tab," he turned to the inebriated Punjab Powerhouse, "I think you're done,"

She shook her head, "I'm just beginning,"

"No, ma'am," he stated, putting his hand down on the bar in front of her. "I think that's all your little liver can take,"

A wretched look crossed her face. "You don't know that. I'm English by birth; I could drink you all under the table," She pointed at everyone, trying to make eye contact with a jolly laugh. Neela stood, a little too quickly.

He caught her by the arms in time before her behind hit the floor. "I think you already have, my dear. Come, let's go," He began to usher her out of the establishment.

"Wait!" Morris called to them. He stumbled slightly. "I can take her,"

Simon shook his head. "Call a cab for you and the others, Archie. I'll get Neela home," he ended the conversation quickly before walking out with her.

"I'm okay," she attempted to convince him. He shook his head, trying to wave down a taxicab.

"No you're not,"

"You didn't drink enough," she muttered bitterly

He chuckled. "Someone's got to be the adult tonight,"

Her eyebrow raised in disbelieving question, "Since when are you mature enough to be the adult?" He ignored her jab to his integrity before trying to run up to her. Clearly, Neela wanted to walk.

"Hold on," he called out, catching up to her. "Please don't tell me you're a runner when you're drunk,"

"I'm fine," she defended, "And walking home would be better. Clear things," her foot slipped a bit on the icy sidewalk. He rolled his eyes, reaching to hold her elbow. If she wanted to walk, the least he could do would be to make sure she wouldn't burst her butt on the blocks home.

"Fine," he assented, "We'll walk,"

Neela turned her head, sharply staring at him, "I'm not so off my rocker that I don't know my own way home,"

His eyes darkened, gazing pointedly at her. "Humor me,"

She rolled her eyes, continuing on her trek. He obviously refused to go away. Neela inwardly scoffed.

When did Brenner suddenly turn into a golden boy?

They were silent for the first two blocks, the only noise being the cautious shuffle of their feet against the ice of the sidewalk. Occasionally, she would lose her balance.

_Bollocks_, maybe a taxi would have been better. Her mind began to clear ever so slightly with the burning of calories.

She was walking down the street, her hands digging deeply into her pockets, vainly seeking warmth in the frigid Chicagoan air. He grinned, staring at her, her cheeks flushed from alcohol, her hair blowing in the night wind. She glared back to him. He returned the gaze, half mocking, half just taking the opportunity to look at her in the moonlight, to look at her naked underneath the night sky, no scrubs or facial masks. Although the condemning stares and damning words were rather unsettling, it was only writing on the wall with her.

"You stop smiling at me," Neela ordered. "And don't you dare even think of using this night against me for further notice,"

He held up his hands in defense. "Wouldn't dream of it,"

"I can take care of myself, you know," they stopped at the crosswalk. "I don't need you babysitting me. I've been doing this for a while, now, without anyone looking over my shoulder,"

"Well maybe you need someone to look over it,"

"Don't tell me what I need," she bit.

"Hmm," he mused, "Never mind, you're an angry drunk,"

"You know, fine. You want to follow me home, be my guest. But that doesn't change things,"

"Things?"

Her eyes narrowed to two dark slits. "Just because you're suddenly single and I have no love life and we exchange friendlies from time to time and you want to be an arse and walk me home _doesn't_ mean that there's anything going on here," she claimed defiantly.

"That's presumptuous of you,"

"You're a book, Simon. I can read you," she turned the corner, finally making it to her street.

"You're drunk,"

"Yes, however I am not stupid," They came to a halt again, this time allowing a car to pass. He stood thoughtfully, staring at her. "What?" she spat.

"Why are you so bitter?" She eyed him incredulously, at a loss of words. His audacity was annoying. "Why are you so bitter? You're a successful thirty something who acts like a grumpy old man," a smile played on his lips, "What on earth could make you so angry?"

"You," she barked, beginning to walk again. He continued to stare at her, waiting for an answer. "I'm not angry,"

"Yeah you are. You're very angry. You're…you're damaged,"

She stomped her foot, reaching the front door to her building. Pivoting on her heel, she allowed her eyes to shoot daggers at her unwanted companion. "Who are you to come and ask me these questions? Am I damaged? Or bitter or angry?" she shook her head. "Of course I'm all of those. Of course I am," she impulsively admitted. "But who the hell do you think you are that you can come and try to poke and prod at my psyche and analyze me like I'm some sort of case? You, you who are nothing but a two-bit womanizer who can't keep a damn relationship worth a penny. You, who up until we shagged a few months ago, was the most hated man in the ER. You who is so full of himself that he can't pull his head out from his own arse," she sneered angrily. "You, Doctor Brenner… know nothing about me,"

Simon stopped, feeling verbally slapped in the face suddenly very small, "I'm sorry," he started, swallowing down the lump that grew in his throat. He shoved his hands in his pocket. "I'm sorry," He took a few steps back off of the stoop, his ears reddening from the coolness, not from the night but from his companion, "Well it seems that you're home safe. So I'll just-" he pointed behind him.

"Yes," she nodded her back already turned to him. Yanking open the door she stormed inside.

Her mind raced as she made it up the stairs and into her dark apartment. It was an adrenaline rush burning within her. She threw off her coat before grabbing her phone out of her purse. Whatever the hell that little outburst was a second ago was still brewing inside of her. And she would be damned if she allowed it to wear off before she could do what she knew she needed to. Call it liquid courage, but Neela finally had the strength to say what was a long time coming.

Her fingers shook as they speed dialed.

"Hello?" His voice was scratchy, groggy. It didn't matter. All that he needed to do was listen.

"Ray," she smiled breathlessly. "Ray. I'm sorry it's so late. But I just had to speak to you," she started, the courage brewing inside of her.

"Are you alright?" he asked quickly. She could hear him scrounging to sit up.

"I'm fine," she radiated. If all she needed was to be drunk and angry to finally tell him that she loved him. She should have taken to alcoholism years ago. "I just…Ray, I-"

"_Who is it?"_ There was a foreign voice on the other end, a foreign female voice.

All time stood still. And Neela stopped dead. Her heart stopped. Her breath stopped. Her mind stopped. And for a moment, she forgot what was going on, until she heard the voice again.

How stupid was she?

She shamefully, muttered, "I'm sorry. I didn't know. I'm going to go," she hung up on him quickly, muting his futile attempts to keep her on the line. She turned off her phone in embarrassment and haphazardly threw it down to the floor. There was someone there with him when she was so dumbly drunk dialing him to profess her deep love. There was someone lying in bed with Ray while she was trying to make amends. Ray had a roomie that night who definitely was not her. How stupid was she?

Shaking, she sunk down to her wooden floor, curling up in a ball against the back of the couch, her mind blank and her body feeling nothing but piercing, scorching, cruel pain. And for the first time in a long time, Neela cried herself to sleep.

__________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

The sunlight hit her face in an instant. She groaned. The pounding in her head just would not stop, not to mention someone had shot her in the back, or so it felt. Neela moved, immediately regretting after so. So she just lay back, afraid to open her eyes for what she may be conscious of. After a few moments she attempted to move again, this time a bit more successful. Regretfully, she slowly pulled herself up to her wobbly feet, using the arm of the couch for help. She tried again to open her eyes, only to find them stuck shut.

And it all flooded back to her.

The drinks and the verbal assaults and the phone call and the girl all flooded into her mind.

Neela felt woozy again. She was going to be sick.

She slumped against the couch, this time finding a seat on it. She painfully rubbed the sleep from her eyes allowing them to open. It took awhile for her to gain focus, not that she really wanted to.

After crawling into a long, hot shower, she was finally able to come around. Her head still zinged from a hung over headache and her body ached from her poor sleeping arrangements. It was just her insides that hurt the worst. She racked her brain, wondering what she could have been thinking, trying in vain to get Ray back last night.

But he once and for all was done with her. That woman in his bed proved it. A few weeks ago when he told her about his girlfriend should have proven it to her. But she was stubborn and damn optimistic.

She was wrong.

Neela shook her head, nursing herself with a cup of coffee and an aspirin. She looked out the window, seeing something that made her conscience churn in disgrace.

Simon Brenner was walking near her building.

Her guilt getting the best of her, she quickly made her way downstairs, without first noticing the box at her doorstep. Clad only in her pajamas and a bathrobe, she stood on the sidewalk. "Simon!" she called out.

The blond turned around, and after some hesitation, he walked over to her. "Hi," he sheepishly greeted her.

"Hi," she returned, suddenly not knowing what to say. They stood awkwardly for a minute.

He spoke first. "I, um, I tried calling you all morning but your phone was off. I wanted to make sure you were alright. I just dropped by some food. I didn't think you had any and I thought that you may need some rations to fill your stomach after you threw up the contents of last night,"

Her cheeks reddened. She acted a fool last night. Her mouth moved to a grateful smile. "I yelled horrible things to you last night, and yet you're checking up on me and bringing me hangover food this morning,"

"Afternoon," he corrected her, pointing down to his watch. "And, yes, you were a little off. But I am a bunch of those things that you said, and-"

"Why?" her eyes were filled with question.

He shrugged, shoving his hands into the pockets of his khaki pants. "I like you,"

Her face dropped. "Don't. You'll just end up dying or getting your legs chopped off or losing a family member," she muttered under her breath

"What?" he smiled incredulously.

She shook her head quickly. "Nothing, never mind," Neela exhaled loudly. "I'm sorry about what I said last night. I…I didn't mean it. I had some… internal issues,"

He searched for her gaze. "Had?" he questioned. "You resolved them in what...twelve hours?"

She stopped, thinking for a moment, allowing last night to flood her senses one last time. She made a fool of herself, hurt someone who had genuinely been nice to her, and gave an old relationship one last college try before a picturesque crash and burn.

"Yeah," she nodded. "It's all resolved," she closed her eyes and shook her head, motioning to her building. "Do you want to come up? I, erm, I guess I have food now. We could eat. I mean it's not quite those reservations that you had yesterday but-,"

"It's pizza,"

She slowly smiled. "Are there anchovies?"

He furrowed his brow. "Oh, sorry, I didn't think anyone actually liked those little fishes," He looked at her, gauging what was going on. Taking her peace offering, he smiled. "But yeah, I would like that,"

With one final deep breath, Neela walked inside of her apartment with Simon, knowing very well that she was consciously closing something in her life, not out of want or desire, but of heartfelt necessity.

And though she had claimed this before on many an occasion, this time around, she truly meant it.

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**Author's Note: I'm super sorry this chapter was a tad long and a bit neela/simon centric. But i do think that when the going gets tough, Neela would take the closest form of comfort until she puts on her big girl panties and goes and fights for her man. Fear not! a reunion shall happen...**

**Next chapter: coming soon! thanks guys!**


	7. Chapter 7

**Title: The Hours Home**

**Author: BelleG08**

**Summary: You. You have taken all of me without giving any back. You have broken me down to nothing, and yet you have shown me what it is to be alive.**

**Disclaimer: I own Nothing. This is a Ray/Neela/Simon Fic. **

**NOTE: Gah, I think this was the longest I've gone without updating. Many apologies. **

**PS – Belated Merry Christmas and a Happy Roomie New Year!**

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**Chapter 7**

"Why are you saying this?" her voice was high pitched with concern. Her brown eyes glazed with fresh tears.

"I'm not saying anything, Cam. I just need some time alone,"

"Time alone from me? You're always at work or with Brett or alone at home. We never have time alone together," she pressed. "Just let me in,"

Damn Cameron for being so hard assed when it came to relationships. Damn her for being such a damn perfectionist. Damn her for being so hard to be angry with.

But somehow, Ray found a way to do it.

"Stop it, please," he pleaded, running a frustrated hand through his crew cut hair. "I'm just tired as hell and I want to sleep, alone," he emphasized. "So can I just call you tomorrow?"

"What did I do?" She was far passed the worried stage and now grew frantic. "What did I do?"

"You didn't do anything, Cameron!" he found himself yelling. "But you're really making me go to an attitude where I don't want to be. Stop pressing me, and please, just leave me the hell alone," Ray flinched at his own forceful words. He stood against the molding, holding the door open for her.

Her face was stained with tears as she kissed him on the cheek. "I hope you feel better," she timidly spoke.

He exhaled loudly. "I'm just tired. I'll call you,"

She nodded quickly. "I'm just-" she stopped herself, obviously losing an inner battle. Shaking her head again, she walked out of his apartment.

He shut the door with a loud thud, silently cursing himself for his foul mood. Resting his head on black paneling, he audibly sighed. There was definitely something wrong with him.

Fourteen days.

It had been fourteen days since he spoke to her so briefly. This time, he ran two frustrated hands through his disheveled hair.

Fourteen long days of unreturned phone calls, full voicemail boxes, unanswered emails, and guilt eating him alive.

Ray knew that he shouldn't have answered in that situation, or in that room for that matter. He knew that he should have stepped out, or let it go to voicemail. He ran through the situation millions of times in his head. At the time he thought maybe it was an emergency. It was three in the morning when she called; surely it must have been important. In hindsight he knew he was only lying to himself. The truth was that he just couldn't chance not hearing her voice.

And so his own selfishness cost him what little relationship they shared.

There were so many questions swirling around in his already lightheaded mind, the strongest of which was, why?

Why was Neela calling him?

She was drunk at the time; he knew that for sure. Her voice was slurry, _loopy_ she used to call it. It was the _I beat you to it and finished the tequila this time_ voice, the one that came out to play when she surely wanted to hide. Not only, though, did he wonder why she called, but even more so; what was she about to say before they were interrupted?

Interrupted. By his sweet as a _My Little Pony_ girlfriend, who was now crying hysterically just because he was too much of a child to do anything.

God, he really was an asshole.

His mind raced back to his larger problem. Why was he letting this old flame run rampantly through his daydreams and nightmares? There were countless moments when Ray would find himself staring into nothing, imagining what in the world she was doing at that point in time.

Surely looking down at her phone and pressing the _ignore_ button.

"Ugh!" he yelled in disgust. Ray threw a punch at the door, leaving a mark. He would never get his deposit back. "This is fucking ridiculous," he muttered incoherently.

"You're telling me" His head whipped up suddenly. The voice was speaking back to him. "Open up the damn door, douche,"

He rolled his eyes. Should have known, "Go away, Brett. No Ray aquí,"

"I saw Cam's little Mercedes flash out of here. Like, fast. I didn't think she knew how to drive fast," Brett chuckled, pushing the door open and examining the fist mark, "What's that about?"

Ray shrugged dolefully, dismally twitching his hands. "I picked a fight with her over where we should eat for dinner, and then moved to yelling at her for making the decision for Chinese, followed by making her cry for being such a perfectionist, which somehow then escalated to me kicking her out for the night,"

His bruin companion's face blanked. "You did what?"

"I acted like an ass for the umpteenth time in the last two weeks to quite possibly the nicest person I've ever met. And as bad as I feel about it, I really think it's not the last time,"

"Ok, _House_," Brett entertained, "Now that we've gotten the symptoms out of the way. Can you diagnose yourself and tell me why the hell you're being such an asshole?"

He shook his head. "Why the hell do you think, Brett? Why the hell do you think I'm so fucked up?" he pressed his fingers to his forehead.

"The Indian princess has yet to call you back?"

"God, I feel like I did something horrible. Which I kind of did, and in turn I'm acting even more horrible to my _girlfriend_,"

"Well why don't you just tell her-"

Ray cut him off. "Tell her what? _Sorry Cam, I'm in a bad mood because the girl who I used to live with and was in love with for a couple of years called me while I was in bed with you and then hung up and has yet to return any of my infinitesimal amount of phone calls_," he squinted, his voice dripping with sarcasm, "Yeah, that sounds perfect. Let me go call her now,"

"I was going to _say_," he paused to glare at him, "that you should just tell Neela that you love her and get it over with. It's getting old, man,"

Ray sat motionless. He only stared at Brett through eyes void of any good emotion. "What?"

"Get up," he slapped his friend on the shoulder.

"To do what?"

Brett grabbed Ray's coat, tossing it to him before pulling the damaged door open. "To go and drink. Everything gets better over a beer," he paused for a moment, a smirk playing on his thin lips, "Or maybe like twelve beers,"

They were quite a sight, the two tall, gruesomely handsome young men laughing in the corner of the Roux House bar, aggressively clutching beers and darts. The two did nothing to fly under the radar in any sense, garnering many a look from the single and not so single women in the establishment. Brett, clad in his suit and tie straight from the new office and Ray still in his work garb, sporting the green scrubs in all of his glory. They embodied every woman's wet dream.

"Look at you," Brett shrugged. "Moping over a girl like some cheap Tom Hanks – Meg Ryan flick re-running on TNT,"

Ray aimed and shot, landing far off base. He cursed. "I don't want to talk about it,"

"That's bullshit," Brett cracked, throwing his own dart a few feet, nearly missing a large blond man's ear. He held his breath in fear for a moment. The oaf barely seemed to register anything past his object of attention dancing before him, not at all noticing the ill-thrown dart. Brett heaved a small sigh of relief before continuing. "You," he pointed the neck of his bottle, "Always want to talk about it. It's like you're encoded to not think of anything else except the girl who turned you down,"

"That's not true,"

"That's very true. And no offense, but it makes you very chick-like. Like, Oprah after-school special, Young and the Restless story of the week – chick like. It's getting damn redundant," he complained truthfully.

And it was.

Ray leaned a hand on the pool table nearest to him, allowing the words to seep in. What was wrong with him? He was Ray Barnett, Doctor Rocker extraordinaire, Mister Most Likely to never settle down, the closer, the man who never, _ever_ let anyone bring him down, especially a tiny, five foot two surgeon who had apparently mastered the art of skillful avoidance.

"Like it or not, Ray," Brett shrugged, a serious tone overcoming his monologue, "You two are hundreds of miles apart. You are dating someone else. Neela obviously doesn't want to talk to you if she keeps on ignoring you like this. And if you keep on moping around like someone killed your puppy forever, then you're just going to waste away. You need to man up and deal with the shit that's been dealt to you, whether it's fair or not. It's life, man. You of all people know that it ain't fair and it never will be,"

Brett's words struck Ray like a ton of bricks. He could count on his fingers how many times Brett had been so terribly somber, when his usual goof-tastic demeanor was clouded with wonder and awe. And during those handfuls of moments, Ray could never once remember a time when his friend gave him bad advice.

Even when he was forcibly chucked from his own band, it was for the better.

And so he allowed the words to seep in more, replaying all of Brett's comments for the night.

His brows furrowed to a peak.

"An hour ago, you were telling me to confess my love to Neela,"

Brett hid his smirk poorly. "No I didn't,"

"You bastard!" Ray yelled a little too loud for his companion's liking, finally coming to a sore realization. "You fucking bastard," he shook his head in disbelief. "You tried to reverse psych-ologize me!"

"I did not!"

Ray slammed his beer down to the table. "You are the biggest supporter of me and the girl that never was. The _biggest_, if you could have made t-shirts, you would have. And now you're trying to tell me to give up? That's the biggest load of bull shit that I've ever heard,"

"Whatever!" he threw his hands up in defeat. "Fine. Yes. What else could I do? I mean you seemed to be doing the complete opposite of what I've been saying anyway, might as well back into it from a different angle. Seriously, man, what the hell? Like her or not, be with her or not – take a stance and see if it kills you. It's not just your feelings anymore,"

Ray slumped, pursing his lips. "I know,"

"No, I don't know if you do," Brett insisted, "You've got a girl bawling her eyes out because you don't know what the hell you want to do with your life,"

"Don't you think I know that? God, I feel like shit about all of this. But I just feel like I can't let this go. It may be a dead horse, but I can't freaking seem to let this go,"

There were no truer words that Ray Barnett had spoken in his life than those. He was beating a horse, dead or not was the mere question. Sure, he and Neela had gone months without speaking before, during a very dark time. But up until that infamous phone call a fortnight ago, they were speaking much more often. Never had she ignored him this blatantly. And it killed him. And so he drove endlessly into the night.

The driving cleared his mind like no drink ever could. Luckily for him, Baton Rouge traffic never extended into the wee hours of the night. So he and his Tahoe glided along River Road that frigid night, listening to his thinking music, the loud head banging type screaming through his speakers. It did wonders for his innermost thoughts.

Many a great moment had transpired along this road. It was where the decision was made to become a doctor and not drop out of school to move to LA. It was along this road that he made the conscious decision to make something out of himself when all the odds were against him. It was here where he learned how to drive at fifteen, and here also when he learned again at thirty under new circumstances.

It was his sanctuary, his solace from the Albatrosses of his life.

It was the Ray Barnett road of life, for better or worse.

And as if things could not get any more surreal, the impossible happened.

Snow began to fall in South Louisiana.

It took him a moment or two to shake off the initial notion of hallucination, mentally checking himself while he stopped his car. No, it was still there, the white precipitation, falling peacefully in the dead of the night. Ray could not help but chuckle at the mere thought of a white pre-Christmas there in Baton Rouge. The last time it snowed there he was twelve. The rest of his snow time experiences had been in Chicago.

His mind flooded with memories of a simpler time. Then, snow was a nuisance, something to trudge through in annoyance, grumbling at the bother. There was only one time in his adulthood where he could remember a fondness for snow.

And she was there with him.

Her lips were softer than he could have ever dreamt alone. Her cheeks were warmer than he ever imagined. Her bouffant of hair smelt of vanilla and mangoes. And at that time he knew that that was what heaven smelled like.

Oh how perfect that kiss was, far beating any other he had executed in life. He could remember it like yesterday, every breathless second, the way her eyes fluttered shut in anticipation, the way her breath was like fire on his lips, the way she fit perfectly.

It was times like these when he would kick himself, figuratively of course. Times like these when he had no choice but to be completely honest with himself, when he could admit that he was head over heels in love with a woman who somehow never worked out, the ballad writing, mixed CD making, boombox over the head kind of in love. It was times like these when he wondered where that bold man was, the one who leaned over in his red Nissan SUV and captured her lips in his. Where was that Ray Barnett, the one who professed his feelings in the middle of the street, the Ray Barnett who feared nothing and held her hand in that old warehouse, the Ray Barnett who knew what he wanted and went for it?

He stared at his reflection in the windshield, clouded with white flakes. His own striking eyes bore back into him through the frozen crystals. The snow did magical things, wonders even, clearing the fog of the day and vindicating the night. He smiled, straightening out his neck with his signature smirk.

Yes, that Ray was still here.

And so with all the balls in the world, he inwardly drew the line. Was he playing a mind game with himself and an unknowing competitor? Maybe. Was he still going to do it? Hell yes.

So he pulled out his phone, going over the rules in his head.

If she picked up, he would tell her. He would jump on the next flight out and be with her by lunch time tomorrow. He would pull her into his arms and kiss her again, smelling her mango and vanilla hair, touching her soft, supple cheeks, whispering sweet nothings into her ear. The distance be damned, the love rhombuses be damned, the world be damned, Ray would be with her no matter what.

And if she didn't pick up, well he didn't quite want to entertain that thought.

With a hopeful heave of breath, he dialed.

-- er --

Hours and hours later, he stared out of the window into the white abyss outside.

And as he held her gently, smelling her hair of something far too floral, he chuckled softly.

"What are you laughing at?" her southern voice drawled.

He shrugged, pulling her tighter around the middle as they lie back in bed, "Nothing, Cam. Just looking back on last night,"

He should have known she wouldn't pick up.

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Hello Loves! I hope your frustration isn't too unmanageable! I promise that in an upcoming chapter (not quite the next though) , we will have something VERY special.


	8. Chapter 8

**Title: The Hours Home**

**Author: BelleG08**

**Summary: You. You have taken all of me without giving any back. You have broken me down to nothing, and yet you have shown me what it is to be alive.**

**Disclaimer: I own Nothing. This is a Ray/Neela/Simon Fic. **

**NOTE: Thank you again for your awesome reviews!**

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**Chapter 8**

Archie Morris was not a scrooge by any means, but today for some innate reason, he could not value the Christmas spirit. First off, the young boy who came in vomiting because he drank too much of the adult eggnog was just plain idiotic. Although he claimed to be too sick to aim for the emesis basin, Morris knew better. The kid was just a moron. Then there was the college student who fell off the stage in the middle of his Acapella group's Christmas performance. He alone would have been fine to handle, only he wasn't. Archie was about ready to smack all of his Backstreet Boys wannabe friends if they wouldn't stop singing in the waiting room. Stupid kids, were they just too cheap to buy instruments or did they actually like making a drumming noise with their lips?

And then there was what had emerged over the last few days that really had him ticked off. He really did not appreciate what he had been seeing. Normally, the red headed doctor would seize any opportunity to tease a seemingly new couple. What with the stolen glances and flirtatious one-liners, they were like standing targets. But today he was plainly appalled. Well not so much appalled as he was deeply disturbed.

It started out about three weeks prior. It was innocent enough, he assumed at the time. They always seemed to walk into the Emergency room together, enjoying a cup of coffee or in conversation. They would laugh and part ways, always somehow finding each other again in a few hours. Then a few times, he would notice, the two would leave together out of the automatic doors. Simple enough.

Except six days ago when he heard the Australian refer to her as '_Love'_. Archie would have thrown up if he had the energy to. Even more sickening was the fact that the little British girl seemed to respond to it likeably, not biting at him as he would have assumed. Now if Archie ever called her '_Love'_ he was sure he wouldn't be able to father a test tube child again.

But if _Simon Brenner_ called her '_Love'_ then of course Neela would agree to go Christmas Shopping with him on Michigan Avenue after work. Because that was what she did, she agreed when he asked across the admit desk with everyone around. And she definitely said yes, with a smile no less. The haughty blond attending even managed to sneak a wink in without being scolded.

But today, Archie had to draw the line; he had to have been seeing things. Maybe it was the annoying way the acapella group sang _The Carol of the Bells _over and over and over again, or the way that the eggnog child projectile vomited all over his new tie, or maybe it was the fact that Frank was very creepily walking around with a mistletoe headband, thoroughly disturbing everyone in the surrounding vicinities. Whatever it was, for some odd reason, he could have sworn that he saw Simon hugging Neela in the ambulance bay this morning, lingeringly.

Morris clutched his pen tightly. This was not right.

"Archie, why did you page me?" the Brit voiced in her normal demanding tone.

"Leg versus rot iron gate, trauma two, consult needed," he responded through gritted teeth. He could not get involved. He could not get involved. She would surgically remove his little boys if he even so much as spoke to her about it.

"Hm," she mused "medieval," she turned on her heel, not before the man of the hour stopped her.

"Off at four?" he questioned, his light eyebrow up in question.

"Mhmm," was her response, staring up at him.

"So I'll just wait for you and we can go and pick up that tree, then, right?" He craned his neck down.

She smiled. "Sounds about right," He rocked back on his feet, toying with his stethoscope and grinned as he watched her hurry to the fire that was Trauma two.

Now Morris knew he must be imagining things. Christmas Tree Shopping? What were they going to do next, make a gingerbread house? And what exactly was the deal about waiting for each other after their shifts were over? The only way that Archibald Morris could ever be coerced into staying late after a shift would have to be the naughty promise of….

Well that just could not be right.

He inwardly _hmphed_. Neela said Archie couldn't speak to her about Ray. She never said anything about speaking to Brenner.

"Simon," Archie stepped forward, cocking his head to the side.

"Archie," the curly haired man nodded. "Yes?"

"We're cool, right?" he fell into step with the doctor, making their way over to the lounge, "Like, we're cool, huh?"

Simon held the door open for the redhead. "I believe so, unless there's something you aren't telling me,"

Morris chuckled. Oh, if only he knew. "Well then can I talk to you about something?"

Brenner's blue eyes glanced up from the coffee pot, "Em, sure," The two moved to sit on the couch. Simon leaned forward, his brow furrowed in question. "What's going on?"

"Um," Archie looked up, "In Australia do you have fraternities and stuff? Like paddles and beer pong and a bunch of Greek letters and hot girls who get drunk all the time. God, I miss college, you know when we had our parties it was-"

"Yes…and I'm not following,"

"Sorry," he shook his head, "See, when you're in a fraternity, you start out as a pledge and endure all this crazy stuff with your pledge brothers and when you're finally initiated, it means so much more because, well, you went through all of it together and you come out so strong, _together_," he clasped his hands, "Well that's what we all are. We're a fraternity, the ER – Epsilon Rho if you will, a pledge class. And Neela, Neela – it's like she's my brother, my _pledge_ brother. Ok, well she's not really a guy, but like a really _hot_ pledge brother. I mean, my brothers were never that hot-"

He was going restless. "Morris, do you have ADD or something, because I don't really have time for your homoerotic fraternity memories,"

"Fine. Sorry…you know maybe, I've never really been tested for ADD, but all the symptoms are there, and adderall is really great. It's kind of addicting-" Brenner shot him a dirty look, "Ok, ok! Look, I don't know if anyone told you this, but Ray and Neela, they, they've got this love story thing going on. It's this big, long convoluted mess that should be really easy because I'm pretty positive that they love each other," he sighed, "They're good. They're really good together, Brenner. And as cool of a guy as you kind of are,"

The blonde's eyes narrowed dangerously. "What's your point?"

Archie threw his hands up. "They're in love with each other! I don't know what happened when he came here a few months ago, but I swear to god they're in love with each other,"

"Doctor Rasgotra said that they were only friends,"

Morris snorted. "They've 'only been friends' for a very long time," he air quoted. "They used to live together and then something happened and a bunch of other stuff and then Ray got into an accident and moved away," he claimed matter-of-factly. "Bottom line, they're supposed to be together,"

"And what if I think that Neela and I should be together?" Simon posed the question, sitting back with his arm sprawled across the ledge of the couch. "What if I like her and she likes me?"

Morris laughed, "Dude, not to say anything bad about Neela, but she was a married woman and was still in love with Ray," he shook his redhead. "We're a family here. And not that you aren't a part of it, you're just…" he took a deep breath, searching for the words, "In a different pledge class, I guess. I understand that you may like her. And may be you're right; she might like you," Morris smiled, "But she loves Ray, Simon. And we all just kind of want them to get together already."

Brenner was silent for a few moments, reeling over what was just speculatively revealed to him. "Hypothetically, if what you're saying is all true," he focused his gaze on an arbitrary point, "Then why hasn't she told me any of this soul-mate love story then, and even more so, why isn't she with him now?"

_Damn good question_, Morris cogitated. _Damn good question, Brenner_. "I don't know," he quickly brushed it off. "I don't really understand, but I'm just telling you what I know for sure, and I've been here for a while – saw all of this happen," he leaned forward, a sincere smile crossing his pale face. "I've walked these halls for a very long time, man, and saw a bunch of things transpire, Neela and Ray being one of them,"

Brenner stood suddenly, a stoic expression crossing his serious face. "Thank you for telling me this, Archie," something flickered in his eyes, Morris could see.

"Look," he started, "I'm just saying this to save you some time,"

Brenner nodded, a small smile on his face. "Thank you,"

Archie followed suit, standing and walking to the door with his co-doctor. A mischievous smile crossed his face as they stood in the doorway. He stuck out a hand, pointing into the admit area. "Back to work, pledge!" he boomed, causing many to turn in their direction.

Brenner shook his head with a low grumble. "God, Morris,"

-- er --

She had not allowed herself to have this much fun in a while. Sure, in faith, Neela did not quite believe in the fundamentals of Christmas, but the holiday itself was a damn good one. Who could deny all the fun that was shopping, cookie eating and twinkling lights decorating the dreary city? Surely, not Neela.

She appreciated her company as well.

Simon was nothing short of lovely. Between his gentlemanly ways and need for a well-rounded holiday, he was any girl's perfect Christmas date.

That afternoon was no different. It took them a good hour to agree on the most proper tree. What he thought was too small, she thought too big. What he believed to be too fat, she thought looked sad. And when she gave up and suggested a fake one already with the lights on it from Home Depot, Simon decided that he could live with a fat tree in her living room.

"You would think you never had a Christmas before," she muttered as they lugged all of the decorations up to her apartment.

He chuckled. "My first one with you,"

She shot him a look. The issue of their relationship was always touchy with her. Simon was always pushing her buttons, more for getting a rise rather than anything truly important. In truth, she knew he was perfectly content being her no-name. Conversely, Neela would rather not talk about it and let things go where they would with as little thought and words as possible. Labels sucked, in her humble opinion. The truth was that she was horrible at relationships.

And one did not need to be a doctor to figure that out.

"Well, I come from England. Where we celebrate everything and pray for blessings on our queen before our own mother," she jimmied her door open, holding it ajar as he carried the Douglas Fir into her entryway.

"Good match then," he smiled, flashing his impeccably white teeth. "Near the bay windows?" he nodded to the northern most part of her living area.

"That'll do," she assented, dropping her shopping bags full of ornaments and lights near the door. "Are you hungry?"

"I have reservations for dinner later," he called out from behind the giant tree.

She stood at the counter, her brows furrowed. "Oh? Where?"

"Erm, _Moto_," he managed to choke out.

"That molecular scientific restaurant?" she questioned, moving to grab a mug.

"That's the one," he struggled, maneuvering the giant decorative greenery over the stand. He gasped as it almost fell on him, "Maybe we should have just gone to Home Depot,"

Her lips twitched up, half smiling. "Well, they probably would have gotten someone to install it themselves, without," she picked up the four boxes of lights, "Having to put these on them,"

He rolled his eyes, finally steadying the tree. "This is good," he admired his work. "Time for a break,"

It took them all that late afternoon to fix up her home. They wrapped the tree with lights and garland, popcorn and apples. The fruit, she argued, would certainly rot. Simon would not hear any of it. She sat on the couch, wrapping gifts while he was crouched behind the tree, fiddling with her music. Of course they needed a few holiday tunes to flit merrily through the air.

It was only then when Simon noticed the CD crammed between her home audio system and the side wall. It was too tight of a space for the case to have fallen on its own. It must have been stuck there on purpose. He stared at the front case, a picture of his beloved with her old friend, loving font written across it. He gripped the case tightly, debating with himself. He finally decided on the truth.

"Neela?" he called out to her, putting the object back where he found it.

"Yes?" she answered.

"Em," he cleared his throat, not quite sure how to approach the matter. He took a deep breath, "You and Ray," he started.

Her breath hitched as she heard the monosyllabic name escape Simon's lips. She refused to meet her companion's wandering gaze. After what seemed like forever, she finally found her voice, "What about Ray and I?"

"Is there…something going on between the two of you?" his voice was strained, his eyes narrowing in sincere question. "I mean, you can tell me. I know that last October…" he left off, almost sheepishly.

Her mind raced and in the end, rounded back to where she started. What could she possibly say? The poor truth was that at this point in time, there was anything going on, at all. She had been avoiding his phone calls for the past few weeks. It was callous, yes. But it was something that she must do to remain psychologically sound.

It was like a diet. You _have_ to do it. You don't _want_ to do it.

It was the most self control she had ever obtained, not answering those calls, emails, messages. There was one particularly weak night when she nearly answered his call at almost two in the morning. It was when her finger hovered over the green button that she decided against it.

That was the last time Ray ever tried to contact her.

"Uh," she stuttered. "What…why?" her voice gave way to her anxiety.

As if reading her mind, Simon filled in the blanks. He shook his head. "Doctor Morris spoke to me today. He seemed to be under the impression that you and Ray," he motioned with his hands, "had something going on…a tad more than platonically,"

"Oh," was all she could say.

He searched her dark eyes for the truth. "Neela, it's alright. If there is something going on, just let me know,"

Neela let out a deep breath she wasn't aware that she was holding. She should have known that the small redheaded leprechaun was behind this. She seethed.

Oh Hell.

"No," she quickly answered. "No," she shook her head in negation. "Ray and I…" the words were beyond her, "We're not involved at all on any sort of level. We don't talk, even,"

"Are you sure?" She felt for Simon. He was genuinely asking for her candor and nothing else.

"Positive," she closed her eyes, wanting nothing more than the demise of their current conversation, "Why don't we go and eat. I'm starving,"

Sometime in the conversation Simon moved to stand before her. He shoved his hands into his pockets, surveying the situation. His eyes seemed unbelieving, not quite sure what to make of it all.

"Neela," he moved forward.

"I'm famished," she bolted up, planting a smile firmly on her lips. "Really, I'm starving,"

He inhaled acutely, forcing himself to nod in assent. He grabbed her coat and shrugged it onto her small shoulders before sliding into his own.

"Doctor," he whispered. Her eyes flashed up to meet his. In an instant, he covered her lips with his own, laying a shy kiss on her unassuming mouth. With a racing heart, he breathed. "I truly hope that you're telling me the truth,"

She nodded, dazed and fully off guard and allowed him to usher her out the door.

Neela could only wish that she was lying to him.

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**A/N: My beloved readers, i do believe the next few chapters are going to be a nice reward for being so darn patient with my triangular love antics.**


	9. Chapter 9

**Title: The Hours Home**

**Author: BelleG08**

**Summary: You. You have taken all of me without giving any back. You have broken me down to nothing, and yet you have shown me what it is to be alive.**

**Disclaimer: I own Nothing. This is a Ray/Neela/Simon Fic. **

**NOTE: _I'm really sorry about my lack of updates, you guys. But your reviews are so inspiring. Thank you so much!_**

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She couldn't function. She couldn't breathe. She definitely could not think.

And if it weren't for her eyes registering everything else around in the busy restaurant, she could have sworn that she was seeing things.

--er--

There really were times when Neela wished she had matched at Columbia Presbyterian, or even went all the way as to accepting her spot at NYU Medical School so many eons ago. They were the first institution to accept women, after all. It would have been right to feed the cause. But as she stood outside of the Grant Hyatt at forty-second and Lexington, Neela could not help but yearn to be one of the many world famous New Yorkers.

There was something so electric about being in the city, the capitol of the world. The air was so damn invigorating, almost forcing you to get off your bum and accomplish something. Really, you were only miles from Donald Trump, Michael Blumberg and Tyra Banks – if they were not means for productive inspiration, then nothing short of a swift kick to the bum would do the trick.

She pulled the short straw. She pulled the short straw by accident.

At least that's what she told her boyfriend when he quietly demanded reasoning for why should would be gone on their first valentine's day together.

She always knew that Lucien kept the short straw closest to his thumb when holding the pack. It was purely by accident – that's what she told herself, a careless mistake when multitasking. It definitely was not the fact that she just felt the need to get away from everything, from him.

What was so wrong with her? Here she had a perfectly good significant other, a good cook, intelligent conversationalist, not to mention aesthetically pleasing. And she had done what all women dreamed to do: she tamed the whale, landed the Warren Beatty, changed the womanizer into a one-woman man. And as proud and satisfied as she should have been, all she wanted to do was take a vacation…alone.

He was hurt; she could tell that much when she had to break his plans. He had set up an elaborate weekend for them, dinner, dancing, old movies, great food, luxurious accommodations. And as she painstakingly muttered an excuse for a mandatory conference in New York City, it took all of her self control to stick to her guns, recoil and allow herself a cowardice weekend away.

The bottom line was that Simon Brenner was ready for a relationship far more serious than she was yet willing to give.

And that fact only solidified her deepest fear in keeping a decent relationship, the notion that she was just plainly and simply unable to do it. This was her first normal relationship in a very long time, even her marriage had been out of the blue. Was she such a horrid person that she was not allowed a good rapport with a man? No, it was what she feared the most: Neela did not want to be happy.

She couldn't allow it. There was always something missing, something that was not enough. There was a nagging feeling in the abyss of her stomach that she knew what would fill it.

It was just too late to get it, or him, back.

But who was to blame for that? She always had a penchant for ruining things. She would run to something else and take the easy way out. But was that what she was doing now? Was Simon the easy way out? Was he just a catalyst in her long metabolic reaction of relationships, a simple way to a hard situation? Was he just the stand in, not quite fitting her mold of contentment? Would Simon just _do_?

Admittedly, she did feel for him. She knew that much. The revolting Doctor Brenner whom Neela had met such a time ago had seemed to dissipate, leaving a decent human being behind, who by no reasoning known to her, seemed to be incredibly taken by the little female doctor.

She just needed a break to clear her mind and eventually, firmly decide to continue on with this relationship, a break to consciously decide to stay in the situation she was in. Neela needed to know that she _chose_ this for herself, for the right reasons.

She took a deep breath of the buzzing February, Manhattan oxygen, allowing the brisk, cool air to freeze her vocal cords, not to mention her leather-gloved hands.

Well, maybe Neela could do without the slicing, glacial weather.

Squaring her shoulders, she pulled her luggage behind her, risking the revolving doors, not quite having the patience to wait in line for the bellboys. She passed rows and rows of other doctors, and the inevitable pharmaceutical sales representatives.

"_Bloody_ _hell_!" she cursed under her condensing breath as her rolling suitcase caught in the unstoppable rotating glass doors.

An embarrassed blush rushed from her neck to her face as she felt impatient eyes shooting daggers at both she and her Samsonite suitcase, which were currently holding up the entrance. She hurriedly tugged and tugged, even going as far as muttering a few quick "_God Help Me_" prayers to no apparent avail.

It was only when a masculine hand shot out and yanked her luggage from the entryway that Neela could finally breathe an alleviated sigh of relief.

That was until she noticed whom the hand was connected to. Neela suddenly wished that she were still stuck, or at least better dressed.

"Didn't anyone tell you that you needed a license to maneuver those things?"

Her brows furrowed in question. "Brett?"

--er--

"I cannot believe that you actually have a job," she chuckled over her beer.

He nodded, "Most people have that reaction, yes,"

"Well no," she immediately apologized, "I mean…the last time I saw you,"

"We were making out on your couch,"

Neela's face reddened. "It was not a make out. It was a kiss," she turned her head with a low mutter, "And I sort of hoped you were too drunk to remember that,"

"Yeah, yeah, after a couple of years on the west coast I realized that I didn't want to end up like an old, leather faced, swoopy-haired, trying too hard has-been rocker," he shrugged, "So I just went back home and made use of my biological engineering degree,"

"Biological engineering?"

"What? You thought I graduated in something stupid?"

"Underwater basket weaving did come to mind, yes," she teased, "No, I'm just curious as to how you got into Pharmaceutical sales,"

He took a swig from his own beer, "I was doing some research with a firm in Dallas when I met an old buddy of mine from college. He said there was a hospital admin job opening up back home. So I applied and got it. I was working there up until a few months ago. It wasn't really for me. The company approached me, with this opportunity, bells and all and I took it,"

"You're a sell out," she scoffed. Brett laughed. He heard that before. "We as doctors, do not like you,"

"I've heard that once or twice,"

"So then you're back in Chicago?"

He took a deep breath, knowing where this would eventually end up. "I'm uh…I'm actually in Baton Rouge,"

Neela hiccupped over her beverage. "Baton Rouge, Louisiana?" he only nodded, "Oh…so, erm," she nervously scratched her head, "So I'm sure you and Ray are in touch,"

"Yeah, we see each other from time to time," he downplayed.

They remained awkwardly silent for some time, each wondering how to proceed as their conversation reared an ugly turn.

Brett spoke up first, "Have you, uh, have you talked to him lately?"

Her heart sank. A small part of her had hoped that Ray had spoken of her to his friend at the very least. "Not since a few months ago, probably before Christmas, even,"

"Oh," was all he could offer.

"He visited on Halloween," she forced a smile. "He looked really good. His recovery seemed to be going well,"

Brett radiated in pride, "Apparently his recovery is going awesome. I think he's got a few more surgeries, but really minor ones,"

"Yes," the surgeon in her kicking in, "After amputation surgeries, one normally has a few more additional procedures for skin grafts and what not,"

"That's what he said," Brett agreed; he ran a calloused finger about the rim of his beer glass, "He, um…he did tell me that he saw you when he went back to Chicago,"

"Did he?" she suddenly perked.

"Yeah," he manner-of-fact-ly relayed to her, "He said he had a really good time,"

A somber smile crossed her face, "I'm glad. It was really good seeing him," She inhaled sharply, pointedly staring at a distance to the left, "How are he and his girlfriend doing?"

It was now Brett's turn to sputter. "Cameron?" she secretly winced at the name. "They broke up a while ago. He didn't tell-," he quickly stopped himself.

"What?" her voice was laced with utter surprise, "I thought-"

"Yeah, right around Christmas actually,"

"Oh," was her only response.

Brett allowed her some time to process the new information. "Hey,"

"Yes?" she came back to reality at the bar.

"I have to go. I have a presentation in about twenty minutes. But I'm free for dinner tonight. Do you want to meet back here for around eight?"

She stood along with him from the tall barstools. "I would like that," she nodded. He grinned, pulling her into a warm hug.

"It's really good to see you, Neela,"

She exhaled into his jacket-covered shoulder, "You too, you too,"

Hours later that night, she sat at the table in the corner of the restaurant, staring through the floor-to-ceiling windows down onto Lexington Avenue. She could see the Chrysler building from her seat, the lights glowing distantly, hearing the car honks down on the street. The chaos was glorious. The night was clear and beautiful.

Her mind, however, was a different story.

It was impossible for her to keep her brain on the task at hand for the remainder of the day. Talks and presentations went in one ear and surely out the other. She made a mental note to do some extra research on what she had absentmindedly missed. But she just could not get the new information out of her busy mind. Ray and his girlfriend, or ex-girlfriend, had broken up a long time ago. What on earth was that supposed to mean? There were so many things going on in her head. Why did they break up? Why didn't he tell her? And most importantly, what exactly, was that supposed to mean to her?

She racked her brain for a specific timeline, indicators, anything that could mean anything. They ended their relationship around Christmas, right around the time when she and Ray stopped speaking, on her part no less. Could that have been why he was calling her? Was he getting in touch with her to tell her that he was single? Was he emailing and texting and calling to ask for friendly advice? Or was it, as her heart skipped a beat, was it because he wanted to get together with her?

And she, being the frigid bitch that she was, had turned a blind eye and deaf ear to all of his infinite amount of olive branches.

Her heart dropped.

Yet again, she had rejected him.

And ironically enough, that time around she had actually gotten to admitting her feelings. Her heart hurt. It was all too much to wrap her head around.

"Doctor Rasgotra?" the Maitre de approached her corner table.

"Yes," she shook out of her reverie.

"Your company has arrived,"

And as if the night could not have gotten any more confusing, the worst and the greatest possible thing decided to occur.

Sweet Lords in heaven, her heart fluttered like a pre-pubescent twelve year coming face to face with the Jonas Brothers.

Only she was thirty-one.

And the Jonas Brothers trio had condensed into one, devastatingly handsome, Doctor Ray Barnett.

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Ok, so I know that was kind of a 'where's the reela fluff?!' chapter ending...but worry not, my loves, i see much fluff in the near future!

So, penny for your thoughts: What do you guys think of the Simon/Neela/Ray love triangle that's going on in the show right now? I know that there have been a bunch of rants on the different forums, calling Neela a whore and Simon a criminal and Ray all by his lonesome, but what do you guys think? I personally get upset when people say stuff like that. Firstly, i don't think that Ray is sitting at home pitifully twiddling his thumbs (not to say he's doing a bunch of different girls, just that he's not as victim-esque as everyone thinks he is). Next, I personally don't think that Simon has done anything utterly terrible as of late. I think that the writers took the whole first part of the season to establish his growth into a better person (does this make me a Nenner shipper? No. I'm just looking at it totally objectively), and tried to redeem him to make him seem like a worthy companion for our Neela. And Lastly, i think that Neela is certainly not a whore. I think she's had like 3 sexual partners in the last six years. God bless her. Does she have the balls to get Ray? Not yet, but i think the time will come. I'm not being an apologetic for her. I know homegirl can be kind of frustrating, confused and indecisive as she may be, she's a tough cookie, growing (i mean she told simon she wanted to be with him. old neela would have never done that. now if only she can do that to ray) and finding her path in life.


	10. Chapter 10

**Title: The Hours Home**

**Author: BelleG08**

**Summary: You. You have taken all of me without giving any back. You have broken me down to nothing, and yet you have shown me what it is to be alive.**

**Disclaimer: I own Nothing. This is a Ray/Neela/Simon Fic. **

**NOTE: _I couldn't leave you guys hanging! Your reviews are so thoughtful, especially your thoughts on the show itself. Thanks you guys! You are too great._**

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**Chapter 10**

It was the most exquisite sight he had ever laid his eyes on, her unguarded pensive self, staring out of the glass windows. He could see her face in the glass, reflected by the light, creased in thought. Those deep, lucid brown eyes that he remembered so well were dark now, stormy and obviously clouded by contemplation.

And devoid of any apparent meditation, his mouth screwed to a small smirk. How many pennies he would give for a mere thought of hers.

It was like this that he found her in the corner of the Commodore Grill. Her small, hands resting atop the black tablecloth, her nimble fingers running along the shine of the silverware, her thick, luscious mane of rich hair falling straight about her small frame, she was the maximum picturesque vision of beauty, and the supremely terrifying painting of danger.

This little girl was the single most intimidating thing he had ever encountered in all of his thirty years, the most petrifying, thrilling thing he could ever imagine.

And he could only smile in appreciative irritation for his absent friend's scheming ways. Of course his dear friend would leave him at the lobby of the restaurant, feigning a forgotten memento upstairs, urging the Maitre de to take him to the table without waiting. Of course his best compadre had something up his expensive jacket sleeve when he jot out of the area with nothing but a wink and a wave. Of course Brett would do something like this.

Something like trying to bring him together with his old roommate.

It had taken years and years of practice for Ray to perfect the soft quirk of the eyebrow, slight purse of the lips, precise balance of disinterest and amusement playing in his eyes: his ultimate badass stance. And it was with this confident carriage that Ray approached his unbeknownst dinner date.

"Careful," he mused as the maitre de stepped away, stopping before her, "You're catching flies. I here the New York ones are the worst too, weird accents, smell like hot dogs and cheap doughnuts," Neela snapped her gaping mouth closed. Her cheeks flushed instantly. Ray laughed. "Are you just going to sit there, or are you going to greet me hello?"

She sputtered, flabbergasted with emotion.

Neela was so overwhelmed, she was sure she would burst into wholly awkward, blubbering tears.

Ray's smile was sincere now, reaching his eyes, crinkling with age in the corners. "Ok, let me help you,"

His touch was electric and heart stopping all at once. That was all Neela's nerves could register as he proceeded to hold her arm, pulling her to him. And so he held her in a tight embrace, reveling in the sweet aura that was Neela.

He was intoxicating, spicy in smell and warm in touch. He could have sworn he heard her sigh as her cheek touched his chest. Regretfully pulling back, she finally managed to speak.

"What are you doing here?" she breathed, her eyes glazed in a drunken daze.

"Brett," Ray smiled with a shrug, his arms still tightly wound about her middle. "I'm his plus one and I think he ditched us on dinner,"

"Remind me to thank him later," The words spilled from her mouth before her filter could catch it. An alarmed, embarrassed air suddenly crossed her face. She shook her head apologetically.

Ray beamed. His voice was low, a whisper almost. "I will," They stood together for what seemed like an eternity, smiling into each other's eyes, holding each other's bodies, drinking in what felt like a dream.

"Excuse me," the young waitress bashfully interrupted the obviously private moment. "Could I offer you a drink?"

Ray smiled even larger, if possible. Without even glancing at the girl, he answered. "Champagne, please," he dropped his voice, "I think we're celebrating,"

-- er --

There were many things incredibly familiar to Neela: getting a coffee at the infamous Jumbo Mart, running an ultrasound on a perforated ulcer, even functioning on a little less than three hours of sporadic sleep per twenty-four hour period. But sitting at a dinner table with her ex-roommate after years of utter miscommunication and unsaid feelings? No, she never would have guessed that it would come as easily as it had that night.

"Are you working out a lot? You look like you've lost like fifteen pounds since the last time I saw you,"

She shrugged, spooning a bite of her crème brûlée. "I try to work out. It doesn't mean that I get around to it. I think I'm kind of emaciated actually. It's more like running the stairs between the ER and the OR. I mean, I live on untoasted poptarts and day old coffee,"

"Well I guess some things just don't change," he chuckled. He pushed his chocolate cannoli to her. "Trade?"

"I was waiting for you to offer," she smiled, eagerly taking the present.

"So," he paused, his spoon hovering over the edge of the caramelized sugar. "I was starting to think that you fell off the face of the planet…or, you know, died,"

She stared down at her fudgy dessert, not knowing how to answer the questioned purple elephant in the corner, "I," Neela stuttered.

Ray craned in neck down and forward, daring to reach her artfully dodging eyes, "I tried calling you, a lot, emailing, and texting. At one point I was thinking of sending smoke signals,"

"I know," she whispered suddenly very fixed with the whipped cream decorating the edge of her square plate.

He inhaled, lolling his head and rolling his eyes in a very Ray-like manner, "I know…I know when you called, you heard…uh," he blinked profusely, trying to find the words, "The situation that I was in-"

"You aren't obliged any explanation to me, Ray," She brushed him off, cutting and sharp.

"Hey," his voice softened. He reached over, hovering his hand above hers. With a great leap of faith, he grasped her tiny appendage, "We broke up…a long time ago,"

She nodded, "I know," her answer was laced with sheepishness, "Brett told me,"

"Heh," he snorted, taking a bite from his creamy French dessert, "Good old Brett," Their waitress approached the table again, asking if they required anything else. When answered with a thankful couple of _'no thank-yous'_, she graciously left the black tab on the table. Simultaneously, the two dinner attendees reached for it.

"Ray-" Neela urged, firming her grip.

"Neela," he warned her in return, leaning his head to the side with wide eyes.

"Let me pay," she argued, "It's the least I can do,"

He narrowed his eyes, "For what? Getting duped into eating with me? Right,"

She scoffed, "I don't mind,"

"Be real, Neela. I know what they try to pass off as a paycheck at County," he rolled his eyes. "I'll pay,"

"At least let me split it,"

With a final irritated smirk, he used his strength advantage and tugged the check out of her hands. "That's the stupidest thing ever," he raised his dark eyebrow to her. "So I'm going to pretend like I didn't hear it come from your mouth," Her jaw dropped. "Catching those flies again,"

"Ray!" she chewed at him.

He rolled his eyes. "Neela, I'm from South Louisiana and in the past 21 months that I've been back there, my mom has rubbed off on me a lot more than I want to admit, not to mention she's come to frighten the living daylights out of me again like a scared little seven year who just got caught stealing a Snickers from wal-mart. It also means that if Jacey ever caught me allowing a lady to pay for anything, even decades after my formidable years, she would still feel very right in spanking me. So please take mercy on my spineless ways, and let me pay for this damn dinner,"

She could not help the laugh that emitted from her dark lips. Raising her hands in defeat, she smiled, "I concede. Far be it from me to stand in the way of your Southern Values, however fearfully induced they are. It's all yours,"

"Thank you,"

He stood from the table, after placing the cash in the small black, monogrammed folder. Neela followed suit. He smiled, allowing her to lead their way out of the restaurant adjacent to the hotel. Silent minutes later, they stood before the golden elevators, each succumbing to their personal twitches of discomfort.

Ray was the first to speak after taking a quick glance at his phone. "It's only like nine-thirty. Do you have an early morning tomorrow?"

She mentally ran through her itinerary. She definitely had a speaking to attend at eight-thirty. "No," she lied, "Nothing early,"

His face flashed his signature, heart-melting smile. "Do you want to go somewhere?"

It was her turn to grin. "I would,"

"Great. Well how about we change into some street-safe clothes and meet back here in like ten minutes? Put on your boogie shoes, Neela. We're in for a fun one,"

-- er --

"I would never have coined you as a piano aficionado,"

"What, the only classical instrument lover can be the banjo-disguised-as-a-big-violin-playing Neela Rasgotra? That's kind of snobby,"

She shook her head. "You're impossible,"

"I'm just witty," he shrugged. "But going back to what you were saying. Yes, I do know how to play the piano. Every great musician has tinkered on the black and whites and secretly yearns to be a world-class pianist," He lowered his voice, "Although they'll never admit it,"

"That's not very rock and roll,"

His eyes were wide in incredulousness. "Are you kidding me? Sure guitar and bass and _viola_," he nudged her, "Are all great for string solos. But pianos? Pianos can make the purest, greatest, most harmonious music – in all genres, no less,"

"Hm," she ruminated, "Never thought of it that way,"

"Well of course you wouldn't. You grew up across the pond in such a sheltered way. You probably thought Madonna was good music,"

She dangerously narrowed her gaze. "Oh you mean the land of the Beatles and The Rolling Stones?"

"_You_ didn't listen to them," he pointed his finger at her. "Your idea of oldies rock is KC and the Sunshine Band. The kingdom of Britrock was wasted on you. I'm surprised you even know who the Rolling Stones are, apart from the magazine,"

She deadpanned. "I'm Indian, Ray, not remedial,"

He chuckled, "Touché,"

The two walked the cold streets of midtown Manhattan, their gloved hands shoved in the pockets of their overcoats, their lips blue with the wind chill, their eyes dancing across the lights of night.

It was almost one in the morning, and Neela could rightfully say that she was no longer a virgin to the Karaoke Bar Stage.

She did not know how Ray managed to drag her into the shady joint. Maybe it was the promise of something in the likes of _warm_ beer. She made a note to never try that again. But nonetheless, Doctor Barnett had a way of forcing her out of her comfort zone and into the limelight, void of fear and awkwardness.

She smiled in reverie as they walked down the sidewalk. The drunken crowd at the bar cheered her on as she bumbled through the electronic books, searching for her proper song. It was only then when, Ray keyed in a combination with a devilish smile. Her eyes cringed in horror.

"Ray!" she yelled at him. "I can't sing _Journey_!"

"Everyone can sing _Don't Stop Believing_!" he challenged her, "It's an institution. It's a creed for our generation,"

"It's not even our generation," she muttered as the piano recording flooded in.

He refused to meet her eyes gazing only at the plasma television screen, "Stop ruining the mojo and sing about the _city boy from south Detroit_, Roomie,"

And so the two belted out those grand words, and she felt alive again. She felt free and real and liberated and all the things that Neela would never have strung along with her name. It was easy with Ray. It was simple when it was just the two of them and nothing else. It was…it was like home.

The night flew by and in an instant they were back at the Grand Hyatt, laughing about the fat drunken man in the corner of the bar who wanted nothing more than to join them on the stage. He, however, did not receive the memo that it was not a strip joint.

"I have seen some gruesome things in our line of work, but that probably takes the cake," she chortled with a shake of the head. The two stood before her door reading _2432_, still reflecting over their karaoke experience.

"Nah, remind me to tell you the story about the big girl who used to follow _Skunk Hollow_. Now that was something," he shuddered at the mental image. "Neela," he started.

"Yeah?"

"Back in Chicago," he left off for a moment, searching for something in her brown eyes. "Things are…"

She squinted, trying to understand his question. "Things are…okay," she nodded, "If that's what you're asking,"

"They're _okay_?" he stressed the word, fully pulping it to a meaning. "Like they're _okay_,"

"Yes," she shrugged, "They're okay," her brows were furrowed.

A silence fell between them, void of awkwardness or apprehension. It was more of a quiet, pensive hush, a questioning of what to do next.

Ray breathed, flicking a white flake of snow from Neela's shining, black and burgundy hair. "I had a great time tonight,"

"Me too," she whispered, all too aware of his closeness. She bit her lip, inadvertently sending his gaze to her mouth. "If you want…I can skip tomorrow,"

"I don't want you to get in trouble with Lucien," he told her thoughtfully.

"I won't," she convinced him, almost pleadingly.

His full mouth moved to a smirk. "So you're gonna play hookie to hang out with a boy? Kind of Catholic-School-girl-ish, don't you think?"

It was her turn to smirk, realizing that even in their short reunion, he was already rubbing off on her. "Only if you're into that kind of stuff,"

He smiled, really smiled – not a smirk or a chuckle or a sarcastic leer, but a smile – teeth bared and all. He took another step forward, his hand cupping her chin his mouth breathing husky words onto her quivering lips. "You know me too well,"

And in an instant, he captured her lips in his. A shock jolted through her body, electric and stimulating, dirty and pure and rocky and smooth and hot and sweet all schizophrenically at the same time. When she opened her mouth in attempt to invite him in, he backed way with a sly smile. She subconsciously pouted. Had she done something wrong?

Ray saw the confused look in her dark eyes, threatening to fall apart. He gently rubbed his thumb along her cheek, his other hand grasping hers. "You need to sleep. Believe me, tomorrow's gonna be a hell of a day, Roomie,"

She nodded slowly. Ray shook his head. Leaning in, he planted a chaste kiss on her forehead. "Good night, Neela," He waited for her to enter her room before walking away, a skip to his metal step.

Neela leaned for support of anything on the other side of the metal door. Her heart raced so quickly she was sure she was about to have a heart attack. And with an idiotic smile, she whispered to no one in particular.

"Good Night, _Ray_,"

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A/N - yay REELA. This is for you patient readers who are graciously enduring these trying weeks. We're all survivors of the Roomie fandom!


	11. Chapter 11

**Title: The Hours Home**

**Author: BelleG08**

**Summary: You. You have taken all of me without giving any back. You have broken me down to nothing, and yet you have shown me what it is to be alive.**

**Disclaimer: I own Nothing. This is a Ray/Neela/Simon Fic. **

**NOTE: _I really enjoyed writing this chapter. I hope you all like it as well. WARNING: there is some slightly mature content here. _**

**_--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------_**

**Chapter 11**

The sun poured into her east facing room particularly early that morning. It caressed her slumbering face in an attempt to awake her for the waiting day ahead, an attempt that was vainly unneeded.

Neela's internal alarm clock stirred her well before the morning light ever could with jitters of excitement and extraordinary implausibility. Even as she steamed in the hot shower, she continually racked her capacitated brain, not with methods of new surgical techniques like her attending would hope her to, but for empirical details of possibilities that the previous night actually occurred – the dinner on the astoundingly low side of the awkward spectrum, the exuberant duet at the karaoke bar and finally the ephemeral kiss that served as a perfect finale to the otherworldly experience.

Her heart was on fire as she sat in front of her vanity mirror at daybreak, running her thin fingers through her waving hair and dabbing miniscule drops of perfume about her décolletage. She stared at her reflection, squaring her shoulders and sizing up her appearance. Sadly, Neela spent an embarrassing amount of time primping up: shaving her legs, plucking her eyebrows, doing extra makeup and extra product in her hair, putting on a face for a man who had seen her at the ugliest points in her life. For god's sake, she used to _room_ with him. Ray had witnessed her in her three day old sweats, dirty hair, and hung over faced self much too many times to count. And now here she was, trying to make herself beautiful for him.

It was when she debated in her third choice outfit mirror that she heard a soft knock at the door. With a deep, resolute breath, she answered.

Dear god, he could wear jeans.

"Happy Valentine's Day," Ray grinned delightfully, offering her a bouquet of roses.

She blushed, her face breaking into an awe-inspired radiance "Thank you,"

His mouth half-smiled, "You ready to go?"

After placing the bouquet on the nearby table, Neela grabbed her double-breasted coat and bag and nodded in accordance, "I am now,"

When you moved from a place like Chicago to Baton Rouge, Louisiana, one learned to appreciate some things in life, Ray quickly realized once he got home. Oh how he took for granted little things, like a _city_, not that Baton Rouge was at all some type of backroads ghost town, it was merely not a place like Chicago, or New York. He missed doing things like this, like walking and bumping shoulders with people, having no choice but to eavesdrop on ongoing conversation in the perimeter and dodging traffic.

He missed doing things like this with her.

It was like nothing had ever changed. It was like they were back to being Ray and Neela again, circa two-thousand and five.

Neela was going on and on about possible attending interviews that Lucien had referred her to.

"I mean can you believe it? Attending…I'm almost an attending," she shook her head her eyes clouded by the incredulousness of her eyebrows.

He smirked, "You've come along way from selling two-for-one cupcakes at the local corner store,"

She went expressionless, "Of course you would bring up the Jumbo Mart,"

"Hey, it's ok…we all go through our Jesus phases," oh how he enjoyed the flame in her eyes when he would push her buttons. She was all too easy. "I remember when I used to single-handedly whoop your ass in discharging patients. Like a smooth and easy four to one ratio and everything if I'm not mistaken…what nickname was disposed onto me? Oh…yeah, _the closer_"

"I'm ignoring you, Ray Barnett," she scolded as they waited at the corner. "Where are we going anyway? I'm starving,"

"Be patient, Neela. It's right up this block,"

"I'm talking a real breakfast, no fruit and yogurt stuff. I want bacon and eggs and an English muffin," her mouth salivated at the mere thought of the greasy goodness.

"Of course you would want an English muffin,"

She rolled her eyes. "You're incorrigible,"

"Its part of my charm," he smiled, resting his hand at the small of her back as they, along with the hurried group of New Yorkers, crossed the walk. After some few argument-filled minutes later, the two stopped in front of the quaint restaurant. A smile moved across the young woman's face.

"The Kitchenette," she audibly reflected, "You know I've heard of this. They say it's one of the best breakfast's here in the city,"

Ray opened the door for her, and smirked in correction, "It's _the_ best breakfast in town,"

"You know, I'm not joking about the fatty breakfast,"

"I didn't think you were," he laughed, "I've seen you eat before,"

"It's just so seldom that I get a proper meal. You learn to jump at the chance,"

He pulled out a chair for her before easing himself down. "I'm a resident too, Neela," he claimed deprecatingly. "They forget to mention in the Hippocratic Oath that once you get the _MD_ behind your name, proper meals and food in general become expendable," They mulled over the menu in between chats.

After a few moments, Ray closed his laminated menu, "I need to give Archie a call if you're this pitiful. Someone needs to take care of you. You live alone; no one probably sees the light inside your apartment except you. I bet you don't even sleep there. Ten bucks says you're camping out in the on-call room. And God knows what kind of hazardous materials you have growing inside of your refrigerator. With you having this weird habit of forgetting to throw out leftovers and all. I don't even _want_ to think if you actually tried _cooking_ something. I mean…you're like a…a really sad orphan,"

Neela visibly tensed. She knew she forgot something. She bit her lip hard, not knowing how to say it. Everything was so perfect right now, so, wonderful, so fantastic, so…not ever needing to end. How could she tell him? How could she put words to what she feared so much, to what she wanted to stay in the back of her deepest thoughts and fears. Obviously, there was something transpiring between them. What it was, she did not know. But it felt good and right and fragile. Bringing up her elusive relationship back home would no doubt place a kink in she and Ray's tenuous détente.

But it would also be the truth. And the truth is what he deserved.

She shut her eyes, building up whatever minute bit of courage she possessed. "Ray," she started.

"Yeah?" he looked up from the special's list on the table.

"I think that-"

"Hey, guys, are you two lovely people ready to order?" was what the interrupting waitress spoke in, successfully cutting Neela off.

"Yes," Ray smiled and motioned over to Neela, "Give her the most unhealthiest thing you've got,"

She couldn't help the grin that crossed her visage. Shaking her head, she pushed the matter for a later time.

--er--

The day was much too short, in Ray's humble opinion. There were so many things that he wanted to accomplish. For all purposes, this was his first date with the woman of his dreams and they were on a curfew. In T minus thirty hours, she would turn into a pumpkin and then where would they be?

Well, if things went accordingly, happily together – or in one way or another, at least, some form of such being.

He should feel tired. Walking around all day was not too smart for a man in his condition. But he felt too alive to stop, too vivacious to ask for a break. There was simply no time between Chinatown lunch, Little Italy snack, street dog other snack, Strawberry fields, CBGB, the Met, and even the damn H&M that she dragged him into. They even squeezed in a show that night. Brett had give him two comped orchestra seat tickets to _Jersey Boys_, a show that he would never have chosen, but apparently Neela adored.

She was humming one of the show's _she-bop_ tunes as they made their way into his hotel room with a take out box full of _Eli's Cheesecake_.

"Admit it," she smiled widely.

"No," Ray was serious.

"You enjoyed it!"

"I did not," he stood his ground. Ray enjoyed watching her enjoy it.

"I saw you bopping your head!"

He scoffed. "Well sue me, Neela. Not all white boys are born without rhythm,"

She giggled like a little schoolgirl as she stole the final piece of cheesecake goodness.

The two sat in silence on the bed, Neela cross-legged, studying her companion's features. "What are you thinking about?"

He shrugged, "How…fateful this weekend turned out to be,"

"You believe in fate?"

"I believe in things happening for a reason," he stared out of the window, thoughts obviously clouding his coherent mind. "I believe in patience and struggle for the right time and place," she furrowed her brows as he continued. "That maybe all that crap that happened-"

"Ray," she started, placing hand on his chest.

He shook his head with an ironic smile, "You know…you're a doctor, a _trauma surgeon_. You make life altering decisions in a split second everyday. You choose things for people you don't know and you save their lives. You choose what to do and how to do it and when to do it," he shrugged, bringing his eyes to hers, "But never once did you choose me,"

"Ray," her heart broke at the vulnerability in his face, "Things were…complicated,"

"I know,"

She shook her head, placing her hands on either side of his face, "I never thought that I _could_ be with you…It's not that I never _wanted_ to be with you," Her eyes were laced with threatening tears. "The thought of being with you was terrifying and against everything that I thought I was supposed to feel. And yet my heart was doing things that my mind would not account for," she clutched his hair, "And I let myself slip in so many ways that I hated myself for what was going on inside of me, for being so selfish-"

"Neela, you don't need to explain,"

"I want to," she truthfully told him, "You need to know that there are things embedded so deep inside of me for you, feelings that have been there for you for so long that I can't remember not having them. And the day that I moved out of the apartment was one of the hardest things that I ever forced myself to do to you. I thought moving in with you was a bad mistake in a moment of desperation," her mouth moved to a smile, "But it was the greatest thing that ever happened to me,"

He smiled so brightly, it melted her heart.

"And then everything fell apart because of my guilt and fear and my reaction to fly away instead of fight…and I was too stupid and naïve to think that pushing away from you would work. And then when I finally came to terms, after so many hurtful and selfish mistakes, with what was right ," her thumb caressed his cheek softly, "It was too late," her voice broke.

Ray held her hands, pulling her up to standing. His voice was firm with conviction laced with inborn huskiness. "It's not too late for us,"

His eyes danced with the most intense of anticipation, green with clear light as he gripped her midsection so tightly she could almost not breath, not that she would have noticed over the hard, incessant pounds that were her erratic heartbeats. Pulling her hand tightly, he tugged her into his embrace. In that moment, she could not hear anything else around them, see anything but him, feel anything but the electricity that flowed between them.

"I choose you now," she quietly spoke.

He smiled, his hands cradling her face. He murmured, "I've always chosen you, Neela," And with that, he crushed his lips heavily against hers.

Their kisses were intoxicating, as rough and hungry as they were meek and gentle, cool and serene as they were hot and warring. It was a fight between their tongues, their bodies trying to get as much of each other as physically possible. It was natural the way they fit so nicely together, perfect even, the way his hands melded to her petite body, the way her small digits traced his tattoos, the way their bodies put off enough heat to make them both gleam in a lustful sheen of glowing perspiration.

She was more beautiful than any dreams he ever witnessed, more perfect than any of his innermost thoughts and desires, more intoxicating than any groupie he had ever encountered. He was drunk from her. His senses so fully saturated and yet still drinking in anything they could: his eyes boring deep into her heavy lidded orbs as he kissed her sensitive neck, his nose breathing in her glorious scent of vanilla and mangoes, his tongue tasting every part of her that he possibly could.

Neela was so far from gone, so near the edge just by his mere kisses. Impudently, she whimpered, noticing that they were both fully clothed.

His mouth moved to a knowing smirk, fully impressed with her forward emotions. And as flushed as she already was, his heart beat so much quicker, if at all possible, as he noticed a blush furiously rushing to her cheeks.

Holy God, she was beautiful.

She was perfect.

And she was his.

Standing there, lust-filled eyes, dark with primal need, wide with anticipation, her lips swollen from his kisses, a mark already forming on the sensitive part of her neck below her perfect little ear – the moment was almost dreamlike, euphoric as she nodded her head in silent assent. Her small, yet surgically precise hands searched forward, fingering the hem of his shirt. In a swift movement, he lifted her, steadying himself on his fairly new lower appendages and laid her down to the bed. She pulled his shirt off of him and offered a praise of a approval at his fine toned abdomen and chest. His eyes danced as she leaned back against the pillows, silently pleading for him to join her.

And as he did, Ray vowed to give his beloved companion the greatest night of her life.

Years and years of angst, friendship, misunderstandings and miscommunications culminated to the beautiful tangles of their bodies in that New York Hotel room, the lights of the city serving as a backdrop to their dance of love. For they were not having sex, or doing something dirty or hooking up, Ray and Neela were making love to each other. The glowing outside reflected against their contrasting bodies, her caramel against his fair skin, melding too perfectly for words – although they were spoken in sweet nothings of soft whispers and loud, resolute promises.

They were all that mattered in the world that night. They were the only people in the world during the most romantic night of the year. And in one satiated moment of completion, Ray and Neela finally lost themselves in each other, simultaneously uttering the eight most powerful letters of all time.

"_I Love You"_


	12. Chapter 12

**Title: The Hours Home**

**Author: BelleG08**

**Summary: You. You have taken all of me without giving any back. You have broken me down to nothing and yet you have shown me what it is to be alive. Ray/Neela/Simon**

**Notes: Please read with an open mind.**

**Chapter 12**

In any other situation, she would be praying to the sun gods, pleading for a few more hours of night, a few more hours of perfection, a few more hours of her reverie of utopia.

But this was not a dream.

And even as the morning sun dared glare into their bedroom suite, he was real and lying next to her.

She smiled against his chest, running lazy circles along his tattoo. She was never one for body ink, but anything was perfect against his statuesque physique. Neela could not imagine anything more beautiful as a peaceful Ray sleeping soundly next to her.

She took this time to admire him thoughtfully. His hair was shorter since the last time he was in Chicago, back to his normal crew cut. His upper body was more toned, defined and chiseled, like a fine effigy in a Grecian temple. She attributed this to his injuries, the need for upper body support. Not that she had ever noticed any deficiency, even without his prosthetics, there was nothing more gorgeous than a naked Ray Barnett.

She had had sex before, many times before. But last night was a melody, a song, a chord so pure and harmonious that it could only have happened with him. And happen it did. Neela mentally scolded herself for never trying such things with him before. Oh how even more perfect their rooming would have been if she had given into her feelings back then.

But it just was not their time.

Now was their time.

He stirred, causing her to hold her breath. But nothing could ruin their moments now.

"Good morning," he murmured against her bouffant of mussed hair.

"Good morning," she cooed in return.

"Did you sleep well?"

"Perfect," She reached over him, checking their matching phones for the correct time. She picked his up. "It's only seven," she smiled cheekily, "I think we've only gotten like two hours of sleep,"

"I don't mind," he mischievously caressed her neck with his kisses. "Well what do you want to do today?"

"Stay here and never leave," she blushed at her own words.

"I won't complain," he ran his fingers through her hair; kissing the strands he squeezed her bare midsection. "I can order us some breakfast,"

"That would be lovely,"' she regretfully moved to sit up. "I'm going to go and shower. Order me something good,"

"Tea, fruit, yogurt?" he smirked rightly, pursing his lips.

Bloody Hell, those lips were amazing.

"Funny," she poked at him. "Be out in a bit," She leaned in to kiss him again, fully reveling in the flawlessness of the moment. "Unless you want to join me," she left off devilishly.

"I never knew you could talk so blue," he laughed, "And as tempting as that is, let me give Brett a call and explain to him why I locked him out of the room last night,"

Her face dropped. "What? You two are sharing a room? Where did he sleep?"

"He took your room. I hope you don't mind. I stole your key from your jeans,"

"Oh," she reflected, "Well it's the least I could do. After all, his mischief and choice of a job did bring us here,"

He leered, "I know. Of all the Gin joints…"

"Ooh, order some movies. You know that ones I like," she grabbed the bathrobe hanging in the nearby closet. "And tell him not to rummage through my belongings. I'll know,"

"Haha, ok," he chuckled. She was at the door of the bathroom before she turned on her heel and hurried back to him, falling to his lap. "Forget something?"

Wrapping her arms around his neck, she breathed against his mouth. "I love you,"

"Good, because I figured as much," he kissed her. "Now go. The quicker in there, the quicker out," He gave her a small shove off. "I love you too, Roomie,"

She felt like quite the honeymooner, she thought to herself as she allowed the steam of the hot shower to wash the remnants from the prior night. Things were too wonderful, too amazing, too perfect for words. The weekend came by in such a surprise that she hadn't had time to think of the parameters of the matter, not to mention it was impossible to ruminate anything with Ray around her. He had this way of forcing her cardiac muscles to go into involuntary speeds of what she was sure were completely lethal. But now, with the clouds of hot haze collecting about her, she suddenly found the time to think clearly.

She was leaving tonight from John F. Kennedy. Her plane ride was scheduled for five o'clock that evening. And then what would happen?

Truthfully, she did not care one bit. The only thing that mattered was that they would be together.

Ray was only in his second year of residency in Baton Rouge; of course he had at least two more to go. So she was the expendable one, not that she minded. Once she got back to Chicago, she would start searching for attending positions in South Louisiana, hopefully in the same hospital that Ray was at. But if not, she could deal with a long car ride to work. Hell, she could start looking the second she was out of the shower.

Admittedly, it would not have been the first time she looked into positions in Baton Rouge. In those moments of limbo after his visit back to Chicago, she found herself googling a lot. Apparently the main hospital there had a wonderful surgical program. She could ask Lucien for help in recommendations. Surely, she would get some sort of job, whatever kind of job. She would even take a cashier position at the local Jumbo Mart if they had one if only to be close to Ray. Nothing mattered. As long as they were together, she could do anything. Neela knew that for sure.

And then it hit her like a ton of bricks.

Simon.

She had to break it off with Simon the moment she stepped foot on Illinois soil. And as poorly as she should have felt, she did not. She could not. Things were too wonderful with Ray to mar it with something as downward as guilt.

She went into her relationship with Simon Brenner knowing that she did not want it to last. It was selfish, yes. But it was human. She needed that comfort. She needed to feel loved after all of everything. And so she used him as her tool towards a certain self-gratification. It was not that she did not care for him…she just could not suture a Ray wound with a Simon stitch.

And as unethical as it may have been, she was happy now. She was more than happy.

She was satisfied in all areas of the word. There were just a few loose ends to tie up in Chicago and she and Ray could be together, forever.

Was she being delusional? Maybe. But she was in love. Nothing was out of reach when one was in love…and all was fair.

Neela quickly stepped out of the shower, drying off and pulling on the robe again. After a quickl glance in the mirror, she re-entered the room. And that was when she found him sitting at the edge of the bed sans shirt, forearms resting on his denim-covered knees and lower metal appendages.

"What did you order?" she smiled, towel-drying her long, dark hair.

He stared at an arbitrary point on the carpeted floor. "I haven't ordered anything,"

"Oh," she paused. "Do you want to go out for breakfast, then?"

He gave her no answer, not even looking at her.

Her heart began to speed, deadening in pace. It was not a good kind of heart race, either. This was different. She sensed something alarming.

"Is everything alright?"

He shook his head from side to side slowly, continually bleeding his eyes into the floor. "Your phone kept on going off. I thought it was mine," he turned over his palm, revealing her blue-covered contraption. "The silly thing about these damn i-phones…they display text messages without even pressing the screen,"

Her breath caught in her chest. She couldn't speak. It did not matter. He continued.

"You're with him," his voice was low, alarmingly hazardous. His once soft eyes were now grave, steely, frighteningly still.

"Ray," she whispered. She did not know what to say. "I tried to tell you,"

"I asked you if things were okay back in Chicago,"

Her brows furrowed in concentration. "What? Yes," she shook her head quickly, "Yes and…I thought that you meant…I didn't know what you meant,"

"Cut the bull shit, Neela," he finally raised his eyes to meet her. She was taken aback by the venom in his darkened orbs.

She shook her head, closing her eyes. This was not happening. "I tried to tell you! I just could not find the right time! Things were going so well,"

"You," he laughed sadistically. "God what is it with you and time. I need time. It's never the right time. Jesus Neela, you're blaming this on timing?"

"I was going to break up with him the second I got home. Ray, I'm going to come down to Baton Rouge…We're going to be together," she pleaded. Her voice shook with pure emotion.

Everything that was so perfect was now crumbling before her.

"What?" his eyes narrowed in disbelief. "You don't get it do you?"

"I know that you're hurt,"

"I'm pissed," he corrected. "Jesus Christ, Neela! You can't just play with people's lives!"

"Ray…I'm not playing. I'm not…I'm not some calculating-"

"No, you're not. You want to know why?" he shoved his fingertips against his head. "Because you don't think, you're not calculating because you don't give a damn. You're destructive and you could care less about who you stomp on in your warpath to God knows where,"

"Ray-"

"And you know what the sad thing about this whole thing is?" The sadistic smile crossed his lips again, "You fooled me. This past year and a half, you fooled me into thinking that people like you could change. But you didn't. You're still the same old Neela, confused and ready to jump to the next guy when things get rough," he ran a frustrated hand through his hair. "God, I'm so stupid,"

"No-"

"What was I? Just some mindless sex? Let's see of he's actually as good as he sounded like from across the thin walls? Or…or did you get into a fight with him so you ran away here and decided to screw me?"

"It's not like that," her voice was wary.

"Really? Because I think it's exactly like that. You've always been like this. This whole…I'm going to sleep with you because I feel like it. I'll act all good and wholesome when I'm actually just a whore,"

Something flared inside of her. "Do you really want to have at it with me on mindless screws, Ray? Because I really think you have me beat on that one,"

"Yeah," he cracked his neck. "But I never turned you into one of them," His mouth shook in an ironic laugh. "You know what you've done, Neela? You've yet again made me the other guy. I was the other guy to Michael. And then I was the other guy to Gates, and now I'm the other guy to this Douche Bag guy that you've known for what? Like two minutes?"

"Stop it,"

He ignored her, "Or wait, w-w-w-wait, I forgot, that's what you like, right? New guys since there's no history…since I'm just all history to you,"

"Stop it, Ray,"

"Is it the accent? Or…do you want to have little blond-haired, brown skinned babies with him? Or no…wait I bet he treats you like crap, right? Since you like those guys and all,"

"I mean it, Ray. Quit it,"

"You know what? I don't think you have the right to tell me to stop or anything. Actually, I don't even think you have any right to defend yourself on this. I didn't lie to you. I didn't have any secrets to hide,"

"I wasn't lying,"

"Yeah, well you sure as hell weren't telling the truth either,"

She huffed. "You're getting angry with me for being with someone when you were the first to tell me that you had a girlfriend three seconds after you came and visited me,"

"Yeah and I was mature enough to end it because I knew that I couldn't be in a relationship with someone if I was still incredibly emotionally attached to you," he shook his head, "Now I think I kind of regret that decision,"

His words sliced her like no scalpel ever could.

He persisted, "I mean do you robotically claim that you love a guy every time they give you an orgasm?"

She physically stopped. At some point in their conversation, he had moved to stand before her, pacing back and forth in rage. Her jaw clenched. "I do love you,"

"No," he shook his head. "Don't you even try to tell me that, Neela. You love the idea of me. We would have had a really great love story right? Starting out as roommates, unrequited love all that grand crap, except it doesn't work,"

"Ray…you're overreacting. I had no idea that you were going to be here in New York. I had no idea what was even going on in your life. The last time we spoke, you had a girl in your bed. What was I supposed to think?"

"You're supposed to be an adult and actually pick up the damn phone or-or answer a stupid email so that you could learn the whole truth,"

"I was hurt! And embarrassed! So I did what I thought I was supposed to do. I moved on!"

"Yes," he pointed to her. "You moved on. That's the bottom line, Neela. You moved on,"

"That's not-"

"You moved on with someone else who isn't me. You moved on from me. And now you just need to stay moved on. You can't just go back whenever you feel like it,"

"Stop this, Ray. Stop it. Was I supposed to just sit around, moping and hoping for a miracle? We were in different states, living different lives. You left me that night, do you remember? I asked you to stay. I'm pretty sure that I begged you to stay and you left. You waved good-bye to me and left. And then you moved on too. I'm sorry that my relationship lasted longer than yours. But matters change. We were brought back here together for a reason,"

"Stop,"

"No!" she yelled, she stopped his pacing and grabbed his shoulders. "I refuse to allow you to break this up,"

"Me? I'm breaking this up. You're making this my doing? You're the victim, right Neela?"

"That's not what I was saying-"

"Because you're a casualty of war or you lost the woman you were spending your life with to suicide, or you sitting at home, texting your girlfriend huge amounts of apologies while she's half naked in someone else's hotel room…you're the victim right Neela? You're the one who people should feel sorry for? You're the one who never did anything wrong, right?"

"That has nothing to do with us…and you're completely off base. I was only trying to say that I had no way of knowing,"

His eyes bore deeply into hers, sending dangerous messages. "You know? You can kind of skirt responsibility for everything else that happened between us, everything else that just didn't go right," he shook his head, his chest vibrating in a sinister chuckle, "But this. This is all you, Neela. This is all your fault and for once in your life, take responsibility for yourself,"

"What did you expect me to do!" she yelled. "It was not like I was going to go back home and act like everything was the same. I was going to break up with him," Her voice was shrill, raised with her growing temper.

He remained silent for some painstaking moments, running his thumb along his bottom lip in obvious contemplation. He finally spoke.

"How long?"

"What?" She was confused.

"How long have you two been together?"

Her eyes squinted in disbelief. "I'm not going to answer that. That's completely irrelevant,"

"I think I deserve some sort of truth," He widened his eyes.

She scoffed confusedly. "Two and a half months. Alright?"

He deliberated, "So right around the time that we stopped talking huh?"

"I don't know. Maybe, I don't know," She shook her head, trying to make sense of it all. She felt as if her mind was going to explode any minute now.

He shrugged. "Then I was right. You didn't change. You did go right back into your old cycle of going to the next guy when things were off,"

"You were dating someone else, Ray," the wet droplets of water fell to the floor as she shook her head in utter disappointment. "I was trying to be mature,"

"Fine. I was dating someone else then. But you could have told me that you're dating someone else now,"

"I didn't know that you would show up in my life again!"

He wiped a hand over his face. "See, Neela. That's not it. The whole running away thing, taking the easy route, accepting the victim role – that's your bread and butter. That's what you do best and I wish that I could be certain that you knew any differently, but I'm not. And that just shows me that you're the same little girl who kept on asking for time to figure things out when she was actually just banging someone else. People like you – selfish, flakey, people like you undoubtedly end up alone,"

Her heart sank even more. She was unable to formulate anything between the insults and lectures. Nothing would change his mind.

"So that's it then, right?" her voice hardened. "Nothing that I can say will change the fact that you can't get over the point that I was the model child for indecisiveness a long time ago. That even now, when I'm trying to make things right – I'm still the same girl who you blame. Because even though you say you don't blame me…obviously you do. Obviously you harbor a lot of bad things towards me that you're just using now, in this ridiculous situation, to lash out with,"

"Maybe," he shrugged, now cold and detached. "Maybe you're right…I'm just lashing out at you now because I can't get over what happened before,"

She folded her arms across her chest, pulling the robe tighter for any sense of security. "Anything else you want to say to me, anything else that you haven't beat down on my integrity with, anything else you'd like to say while you're bashing every ounce of my dignity?"

He shoved the phone towards her, dropping it in her little hands. "Yeah…lover boy misses you and he's going to be there at O'Hare tonight to pick you up,"

She flinched, clenching down on her teeth.

"I'm going to go and take a shower. And when I'm done, please be out of here," he shrugged. "I'm done with this, Neela. I'm done with the games and the lies – or unfilled truths – or whatever – I'm just done. I'm tired of everything," he exhaled deeply, for the first time, showing an ounce of emotion other than anger. He looked painfully spent, worn down, resolutely made, "You know, maybe you're right. Yeah, you didn't know that I would be here. And yeah I did have a girlfriend. But you also have a guy, however serious or not he is, and even if you have these huge plans to be with me…It's not going to work. We can't even get through a weekend without something messing us up,"

"Ray. It could change. Just give me a day to fix things. Less than a day…I can buy a flight home with you-"

"Just stop it," he leaned against the doorframe to the bathroom suite. "My God Neela," his voice cracked, "I gave you everything in me – every insecurity, every hope, every bit that I had – and you just stomped on it,"

It was her turn to bite back the fighting tears, "I'm sorry, Ray," she shook her head, imploring him for something, anything, "Please…please-"

"We've tried for more than four years one way or another. I don't know if it's just bad communication or whatever, but for some reason…we just can't be together," he stared at her, using his glare to dig deep into her soul. "We shouldn't be together,"

"You don't mean that. After everything…what you said…fate," she clutched her fist tightly. "This isn't making any sense. This isn't logical. Listen to yourself,"

He nodded, his lips forming a grim line, "Yeah I do and it makes perfect sense to me," he folded his arms across his chest. "There are a lot of things that I can be worried about, should be worried about…you and me? Our status? Us? … isn't one of them anymore,"

And with those final words, he refused her pleading eyes and shut the door on her everything that they were.

Her legs moved before she had the chance to tell them. Swiftly grabbing her belongings, she subconsciously fled the room. Running the down the hallway, surely looking like a morning-after mess. She took the stairs, unable to stop for fear of thinking. Finally reaching her room, she banged on the door only to be welcomed by a smiling Brett.

His grin fell at the sight.

"What?"

"Thank you for everything, Brett. You can go back to the room now. I'm terribly sorry about last night," she rushed past him, refusing to meet his gaze.

"What happened?"

"Nothing," her voice was hoarse. "Thank you for all that you've tried to do. I'm sure Ray's going to fill you in. But…thank you," she kept her back to him in fear that he would see the goblets of tears rushing from her eyes.

"Neela-"

"You can go back to your room now,"

Brett took her orders and nodded. Opening the door quietly and leaving her alone. He had no idea what to think, the only thing that he knew was that he had to get up to the room to get to the bottom of the fiasco.

Last night, Ray could not shoo him away quickly enough. And now Neela was crying in her room. What on earth was wrong with these two?

Brett stormed into the room, kicking open the bathroom door next.

"What the hell is going on?"

"Don't you knock?" was the sullen voice that greeted him. Ray was sitting in the tub, the water level resting just above his pectorals.

"What is wrong with you, Ray? Why did she just run into the room and kick me out? What is going on?"

"Nothing," he told him. "Nothing is going on,"

"Obviously because she isn't here with you doing the dirty. What the hell happened?"

"For once in your life, Brett, why don't you just mind your own business?"

"For once in your life, Ray, why don't you just give me a straight answer and not bullshit around it," There was anger laced in Brett's menacing voice.

Ray shrugged. "She's got a boyfriend. She and Russell Crowe are together. That's it,"

"That's the whole story?" Brett knew better than to just take Ray's words at face values. "Because I find it hard to believe that she would do all of this with you. After such a long time of skirting around the obvious, Neela would just turn you down because of some boyfriend,"

"It's a long story, Brett," Ray closed his eyes. "And the bottom line is that whatever she says, whatever she claims, I don't care anymore. I'm done chasing her and falling behind,"

Realization crossed the dry man's face. "You dick!" he yelled slapping Ray across the head. "You're a fucking dick. She said she was going to break up with him, didn't she?"

"It doesn't matter,"

"Like hell it doesn't matter. She said she was going to break up with him and you wouldn't take it because you can't stand the fact that she did the same thing that you did. You can't stand it that Neela moved on like you,"

"If you love someone, you don't just date someone else. I learned that,"

"Well maybe she just didn't think that things were ever going to smooth out with you two. Did you ever think about that, hot shot? Did you ever stop to think that as much of a surprise as this weekend was for you…it blindsided her?" Brett shook his head. "God, Ray. She was right there…she was right there ready and willing and you just couldn't take the good thing when it was dropped in your hand,"

"Who's friend are you, Brett?"

"I'm yours, dude," he told him truthfully. "I'm your friend which also means that It's my job to tell you when you're being an ass,"

"Fine. I might be an ass…but I'm done. I don't want to keep on dealing with Neela drama anymore. I don't want it. Maybe this weekend was what I needed to just get over her,"

"You're lying to yourself,"

"Fake it till you make it, Bro," he shut his eyes. "Thanks for trying, though,"

Brett stood up from the toilet he took as a seat. He shook his head incredulously. "You know what? You would think that after all the shit that's been thrown at you in life; you would know when to be thankful for all the good stuff, that you would know when you were given a free pass. But no…you're still too stupid to step up like a man. Neela deserves someone so much better than you, Ray,"

He slammed the door behind him, not knowing what to make of it all.

-- er --

Truthfully, she didn't know how she managed to get herself back home, how she was finally able to bring herself to change out of the bathrobe, much less get on a plane and go back to Chicago. But she did, as zombie-like as she made it, she did.

She sat on the plane, waiting to get off-board, holding her carryon close to her midsection. She was numb, unable to make sense of anything. Even if she tried to think, she couldn't.

Neela walked through the terminal, holding herself upright, searching the crowds for the two eyes that she knew were looking for her.

"Hey," she heard in a whisper. She looked up and met Simon's warm eyes. Warmth…it was something so far away and yet so comforting. He pulled her into an embrace. "I missed you,"

Neela forced a smile. He took her bag. "Are you hungry?" She nodded. "Well come on, let's get your stuff and go,"

Moments later, they approached his awaiting car. She answered his questions in a small voice and for the first time she felt something.

Guilt.

It was a five letter word, a five letter feeling, a five scarlet-lettered stamp that marred her psyche and took over her entire self as her doting significant other showered her with sweet words. He opened the door for her, revealing a large box on the passenger seat.

"What's this?" she whispered.

"It's part of your present," he grinned. "For Valentine's,"

"Oh," the guilt twisted in her like a dull knife, "You didn't have to,"

"Nonsense. I want to," She sat down and held the bow-covered present on her lap. Silently, she waited for him to climb into the driver's seat. "Aren't you going to open it?"

And the words came tumbling out like fluid from a poor seal. "I'm sorry," her voice cracked.

"What?" he was confused. "What are you-"

"Ray was in New York. He was there," Simon remained silent, his mouth opened in small surprise. "I'm sorry,"

He swallowed, his eyes glazed over, "Did you go there to see him?"

She shook her head in negation. "No…it was totally by chance. It just happened. Simon,"

He nodded. Inevitably, the next question came from his mouth. "Did something happen?" his voice was steady, sincere in question.

She acquiesced, her head following her single-worded answer, "Yes,"

She could not meet his eyes, too ashamed to say anything. She refused to defend herself and her actions.

Neela did nothing but make a huge mess of everything that weekend.

After what seemed like an eternity, he spoke. "Is it done?"

"What?" her tear stained eyes were wide.

Simon's cerulean gaze was pleading for nothing but the honest truth. "Is it over with him…with Ray?"

Instantly, she understood. She inhaled deeply, surveying the situation in her head. After much deliberation, she mouthed,

She could not find the words to say.

She only knew what her gut was telling her. It was that she finally got the answer to the main question floating in her head, the reason why she decided to go to New York in the first place.

"Yes,"

Her companion nodded, sitting back in the driver's seat and staring forward.

"It's a dress," he said quietly. "I broke into your apartment, got your size and bought you a dress to wear. I have a private room at Gibson's for us tonight,"

"Thank you," was the only thing she could say.

After what felt like an eternity, Neela felt something warm around her left hand. She looked down to see Simon's engulfing hers, holding it tightly. "It's done with him?" he asked her one final time.

With a tear-stained nod, she breathed. "It's done,"

Simon let out the breath he was holding. "Alright, let's go and eat then,"

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

::raises hands in defense:: Please, no shooting. I'm very sorry...but it can't be that easy for them can it?


	13. Chapter 13

**Title: The Hours Home**

**Author: BelleG08**

**Summary: You. You have taken all of me without giving any back. You have broken me down to nothing and yet you have shown me what it is to be alive. Ray/Neela/Simon**

**Notes: Please note that you have been warned. Heavy Simon/Neela in this chapter. Please and thank you, lovers!**

**----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

**Chapter 13**

Simon Brenner was content.

Even more so, Simon Brenner was happy.

He was happily working, happily living, happily enjoying life with quite possibly the most breathtaking woman he had ever been lucky enough to know in all of his time.

He stood at his counter, checking back and forth between his cutting board and the Macbook sitting at the island. Sure, he was a good cook, but not so good that he did not need to follow the recipe for Pad Thai and coconut lemongrass chicken soup. The two were Neela's absolute favorites. And tonight, he was making everything for her favor.

He smiled to himself, thinking about the earlier part of the day. That morning, he had watched his significant companion performing an emergency hysterectomy alongside the senior Obstetrician, Dr. Coburn.

He remembered watching intently through the glass of the observation deck into the operating room below. Her nimble hands moved precisely. It was like a fine dance, her agile fingers, graceful and smooth reflecting on the way she worked so meticulously. From the sharpness in her dark eyes as she studied so intently on the subject before her, to the strong voice she used to command orders from beneath her mask, the scene was simply exquisite.

He had come to look forward to spending a few breaks up in the OR observation deck from time to time since the two started going together, even before then. Being there soon became one of his favorite moments at work, just watchfully sitting, observing her in her element as she performed what she was so wonderfully good at. Mostly, he would remain completely silent, saying nothing, just gazing proudly as she flowed almost effortlessly in her life-saving promenade.

Neela was a natural.

She was a genius, a brilliant virtuoso in her field of study. Even after only a few years in her training, she was proving to show such promise. Given a bit more time, she would surely be revered as one of the greatest surgeons to cross the County Threshold. It was as if she knew everything, about everything. She was like a geyser, bubbling with hot information, sarcastic remarks, lovely smiles, biting comments, heart-stopping giggles, or even nerve-tingling silences.

Coming back to the present, he shook his head, dropping the chicken breast cubes into the pot of boiling broth. He always enjoyed cooking for the two of them: dinner, breakfast, the fourth meal in between dinner and breakfast, the occasional lunch when they were both off. Neela was an easy please. If anything, he found that she was far too impressed by his ability to prepare something without the use of a menu and a phonebook to actually complain over what was served to her. Simon did not mind, though, he found much pleasure in pleasing her, anything to see her smile.

Neela was like no woman Simon had ever met in all of his life.

And that was saying heaps, considering the fact that he had known many women, physically and biblically.

He groaned, hearing his pager going off at his waist. With a quick wipe of the hands, he pulled out his phone to give the ER a call.

"Archie," he spoke, "What's the problem?"

The fiery redhead sputtered on the other line. "The problem is that I'm the only attending on right now and these interns are running around like chickens with their heads cut off," Simon could almost see his colleague rolling his eyes at the young doctors. "Tracy screwed up a head-lac, Sanchez almost paralyzed a fifteen-year-old while attempting intubation and…and Daria, don't even get me started on Daria,"

"Morris, where's Banfield? She's supposed to be on with you," Simon juggled the phone in between his shoulder and jaw, trying desperately to not overcook his cellophane noodles.

"Oh Madame Mussolini? Yeah, she bailed about an hour and a half ago," Morris scoffed in irritation.

Simon huffed, trying to manage while stirring the pot of peanut sauce, "Well what about Tony? Tony's almost basically an attending. I'm sure he can help,"

"Gates took a personal day because Sarah crashed his car," Archie shuddered, "You would think a doctor would be smart enough to not let a seventeen-year-old who finally past driver's ed take his only car out for a spin,"

Finally giving up on multitasking, he held the phone, "Morris, I really can't come in right now. I'm kind of in the middle of something,"

"Well, it can't be that important, seeing as though your other half is walking towards me right now. I'm surprised you let her out of your sight," The dryness in the doctor's tone did not fall onto deaf ears. Simon knew that his relationship with Neela did not sit very well with his co-doctor. He just learned to live with it.

Simon's mouth grew to a small smile as a perfectly toned totalitarian voice crossed the line. "_Leave him alone, Morris_,"

She ripped the phone from the red head's hand. "I'll cover for a bit down here," she told him.

"Hello darling," Simon returned, focusing his attention back to the stove. "It's alright. You've been on since six this morning. I can go in,"

"No. No," she stopped him, "Archie's just a complainer. He can deal with this. I'll cover for a little while before I leave. It's no problem. I am trained in emergency medicine after all,"

He smiled. "Ah hah, three years of residency before you quit to join the bigwigs upstairs,"

"Found something better," was her haughty response. "Do you want me to pick up some food?"

He eyed the bubbling contents before him. "No. It's alright. I'll be the one to get it. Do you need me to come and fetch you?"

"It's alright. I can manage. I'll see you,"

"Don't bust his balls too hard," he warned.

"Eh," she shrugged, "He needs a good bashing. His head's getting a little too large for his tiny body anyways,"

"_Hey!"_ was Dr. Morris' appalled response.

"Got to go, I'll see you tonight," Neela rolled her eyes while hanging up the phone. "Christ, Archie, stop acting like I just ran over your cat,"

"My head is not too big for my body!" he felt at his cranium. "I'm perfectly proportioned,"

"I'm sure you are," she teased, eyeing the board before her.

"You don't need to go covering his ass every time he doesn't want to come in, Neela," he told her matter-of-factly. "He's an attending with a pager. This is what those contraptions are for. We're a _team_; we help each other out,"

She narrowed her dark eyes dangerously. "Need I remind you of the many times _he_ has bailed _you_ out? I can think of at least three off the top of my head from this past month," she held up a few fingers, enumerating the instances, "Last Saturday, he worked twenty-four hours straight so that you could go away with Claudia. And then a few weeks ago, he pulled graveyards the entire week so that _you_ could go to Wisconsin to see your family. And don't even get me started on the times when you just ran off so that-"

"Fine," he held his hands up, "I see your point. But I would just like to throw out there that the only reason he opens up his schedule so much is so that he can keep his eyes on you all the time. It's so annoying. He's like surgically attached to your right hip," he shuddered.

She ignored his childish antics as Frank handed her a chart. Eying the papers before her, her jaw dropped. "Is that the same head-lac that's been here since this morning?"

Morris rolled his eyes, "Dr. Martin," was his quadra-syllabic mutter. "Don't really get interns like we used to,"

"Hm," she pondered aloud. "Give them time to learn. Teach them to be good. And you shouldn't call them _interns_ anymore. They're R2's,"

"Well look at mighty mouse getting all mother hen-ly," He ribbed. "I'm just saying that the old days were the great ones," he raised a brow to her, "Even when you guys were like three blind mice, you and Abby and R-"

"I'll go and fix this poor woman up," she cut him off.

"You have to admit, those were the golden years. Sometimes, I just think about how great those days were..."

"You know, I should have _never_ told you about what happened. I regret it every second I look at your little belonging-on-a-lucky-charms-box face," Neela shoved the chart into his chest, "You take this," She stormed off. To her chagrin, even if he got the picture, Archie chose to follow closely behind her. "You need to fix that botched suture-job, now,"

"All she needs are steri-strips. And after waiting eight hours, I think ten more minutes won't hurt,"

"It will if she doesn't get a shot, gets tetanus from a lack of proper care and her muscles lock up," She slammed the door to the lounge in his face behind her. Unfazed, he continued in. She stared at him incredulously. "You would think after such a long time, you would get over this Ray – me thing,"

"You don't get over true love, Neela,"

"This _isn't_ your '_true love'_, Archie," she air quoted. "I really need you to stop putting down the relationship that I have with Simon,"

He scoffed. "He's a womanizing, Casanova-esque, skirt-chasing Lothario, Neela. He'll drop you like a three-hour night class elective when something else comes around. And I _know_ you don't like him," he shook his head, trying his best to prove a point. "Whatever happened to _New York_? Why wasn't there ever a follow up? He-he was angry. People get angry, Neela. That doesn't mean that it's irreconcilable,"

She slammed her cup of coffee down on the end table. "You listen to me right now, Archibald Morris. I'm tired of your two-bit peanut-gallery comments and your snooty attitude towards Simon. He's a good man. And we've _all_ gone through our growth periods here. Need I remind you of the reason why _Romano _was in the ambulance bay almost seven years ago?" she saw his eyes widen in horror. Morris, too, had secrets that he shared with her. She continued, hitting his nerves. "And I completely thought that you grew up from that," she shook her head, crossing her arms over her chest. "Fine, you'll never be chummy-chummy with Simon because he'll never live up to Ray in your eyes. Sure, whatever…but he cares about me and I care about him and if he wanted to leave me; he would. And even more so, if I wanted to leave him, I would. I like where I am in my life. So please, for all things holy…leave it _alone_,"

Archie gripped the clipboard tightly, causing his fair knuckles to turn an albino white. "I'm just trying to help,"

She shook her head, wiping up the contents of caffeine that spilled onto the old table. "I know you are…but we've been over this at least twice a month since all of this crap happened, and the answer is always the same. I've moved on. _Your friend_ has moved on and that's that. _You_ are the only one still stuck on this mess. _You_ are the only one who _hasn't_ moved on from all of this," she laughed both angrily and in incredulousness, "I like Simon, a lot. However we got together, whatever happened in my relationship with him, which is, _by the way_, _our_ business and no one else's - I like him. I really do. And I _want_ to be with him. I've never had someone take care of me so well. I've never had someone so attentive to me, so impartial to passing judgment on me. And I can see past right now with him," she shrugged. "It's been a long time since things were so close to clear for me. So please, if you care about me at all…you'll just...you'll support me,"

His voice grew soft, gentle with feeling. "I can't stop my beliefs,"

"Hm," she mused with a small smile, "I think _Journey_ said the same thing a couple of decades ago,"

A small chuckled escaped his mouth. "You really actually like Crocodile Dundee?"

She grinned. "I do. He's a good person. He's a good doctor and he's been incredibly nice to you despite your misbehavior in all of this," she rested her hands on her hips, "And I would greatly appreciate it if you toned your great enthusiasm,"

He shrugged dejectedly. "No promises," Archie cracked a small smile. "And don't worry about us here. You leave and do whatever it is that you're going to do. I can handle this,"

She grabbed another cup, pouring a new bit of coffee into it. "You sure?" Neela moved to grip the handle of the closed door. "I really can stay,"

"Nah, you go ahead. I think you've had enough of me for the day,"

"Well that's surely the truth," she smiled.

Archie was silent for a while, falling to seat on the couch. "There's just one thing I don't get,"

She chortled sarcastically. "Sorry, Morris, but there are a lot of things that you don't get,"

"Ha Ha," he rolled his eyes before going back to serious. "No really," he leaned forward, placing the chart on the coffee table. "I don't really get how…" his light eyes narrowed, contemplating the correct wording, "Brenner's reaction to the whole thing…" he left off in question.

She exhaled loudly. Opening the door, "He just let it go," she shrugged. "We haven't spoken about it since. We don't talk about it. It was just a," she searched for the proper words, "a dark weekend that eventually made us stronger," she somberly nodded.

"Yeah…but,"

"Morris, that's enough," she cut him off. Her mouth grew to a twisted smile as she half stayed in – half stepped out of the room, "What happened – happened…and for whatever reasons, our relationship is fine. So no questions, no answers from you, understood?"

He nodded, pulling the chart and following her right. "Right,"

Neela was happy to leave County General that night, hugging her jacket close to her body in the brisk December weather. The customary holiday lights lining the streets glowed against the dark of the evening, providing a beautifully merry cascade, accompanying her on her way to her home. The snow had woken them early that dark morning, falling in flurries outside of Simon's top floor window. She always enjoyed the snow, the way it made the dirty streets look like a painting from a child's Christmas storybook.

What she did not enjoy was the annoyingly redundant lecture she received from Archie that night. Normally, he would catch her at the early hours, giving her enough time to work through the turmoil that still harbored within her so that by the time she left for home, she would be over it. But today, he took his soapbox just before she left, causing her mind to do nothing but feed to the thoughts, something that Neela had always hated.

Her situation got easier as time passed by. After a few weeks, she stopped thinking about him as much. She stopped seeing him in everything, visualizing his presence in areas where they used to be habitual. After some time, Neela's mind stopped wandering to him, stopped wondering what he was doing, _how_ he was doing. And after a good bit, she finally believed she had let him go.

But it was times like these, when not just Archie, but _things _in general, would get inside of her head and force her qualms and questions to resurface. It was exhausting, always having to defend her state of self to someone whom she considered one of her closest friends. Even more so, it was torturous trying to settle her mind after it all.

It was done. She knew it. Ray knew it.

And truthfully, after a few months, she fully felt and understood what he meant. It was not just the weekend debacle that proved to be their demise – it was the whole thing that was a bloody mess. They were in different places, doing different things, at different points in their lives. And as much as she tried to fight it, she knew that he was right. They had tried for years and they wouldn't work, couldn't work. Just as her former roommate had said so long before, they couldn't even get through a weekend without things messing up. What more with a lifetime?

She shook her head, reaching the front steps of the brownstone apartment complex, kicking the snowflakes from her worn heels. Pulling out a key, she made her way into the warm building.

When Neela returned to Chicago after the ill-famed weekend, she returned with a new sense of determination, a force to be reckoned with. All it took was the reassuring look in Simon's eyes that Sunday night to push her. She was going to make it work. She _needed _to make it work. Yes, there many times when she knew she fell off the bandwagon, times of weakness where all she wanted to do was take the next plane to Baton Rouge and force Ray to deal with her. At one point, she even wrote him a letter, an old school snail mail type of letter, not that she ever sent it. It was just something done in a time of fragility after a long day where she felt that every patient she dealt with reminded her of Ray. She was so distraught that she even allowed her mind to play tricks on her. She chuckled to herself, thinking about it now. That day she was so lost, she could have sworn that she saw him running by her on Lake Michigan.

But all she needed was a long bath and a perfectly timed birthday surprise trip to Venice with her boyfriend to screw her head on correctly. And good for that, for she was not about to allow her past relationships ruin her new ones anymore. She refused to hold on to Ray long enough to screw up a good thing, a possibly better thing.

And for all purposes, she was good. She was content. She was satisfied with where she was at now. Neela was not fibbing to Archie when she told him that she was happy.

Simon was a good man and that's all that Neela asked for.

Neela pulled the key from her sterling silver ring, turning it in the metal dead bolt. Opening the door, she completely disregarded the heavenly spicy smell that tickled her nose, didn't hear the string music playing as a melodic backdrop because her senses were too occupied with Simon, standing in the middle of her rose covered home, with a large, caring smile on his fair face.

"Happy one year anniversary, Neela,"

-- er --

Celebrating anniversaries always seemed particularly arbitrary in Simon's book. Why point out how long you had been tied down with a single individual? It could be a jinx or a bad omen. If nothing else it was definitely a recipe for failure. So for reasons, too many to count, he always avoided the situation all together. Truthfully, he never really got so far into a relationship that an anniversary celebration was necessary. But it was when he was treating a particularly superficial twenty-three year old trust fund baby who made her self physically sick (dehydrated) from crying over her boyfriend's lack of attentiveness on their six month anniversary that got the wheels in his mind working.

Why not celebrate such a monumental occasion with his girl?

He held her closely next to him in bed the night, reveling in the sweet scent of her dark, lush mane of flowing hair. He caressed her bare shoulders in the dim candlelight, amused with the smoothness of her skin.

"I can't believe you cooked me Thai food," she murmured into is naked chest.

"I can do more than throw shrimp on the Barbie," he accented in his Australian dialogue.

"I can't believe you bought all of these roses," she motioned around her. There was no naked part of her humble abode. Every inch, crevice, and nook was covered with the romantic red flower. Even her bed had petals gracing it. "Too much to spend your money on,"

He scoffed, rolling his eyes. "For this very reason, I scored a deal with the florist and they're a day old from someone's wedding that the bride ran away from," he nudged her, "So there, a rebuttal for your cheapskate-ness,"

She chuckled, resting her head on his shoulder. "I was just saying that there are a lot of other things that you should be using your money on," noting the pretty ambience, she added, "But I love them. Thank you,"

"You're very welcome," he returned. "And there's nothing better to spend my money on than you, my dear," he shrugged arrogantly. "I'm an attending. There's a reason why the line _'I'm a doctor'_ rests very well with gold diggers,"

"Cocky bastard," she muttered under her breath. The name slowly grew to a term of endearment between the two. "Oh, to be an attending, I feel like the days cannot come soon enough,"

"Just six weeks, huh?" he smiled. "Six weeks and you'll be a full-fledged surgeon without training wheels,"

She swallowed quietly, fingering a soft flower petal. Finally, Neela spoke. "Northwestern has been courting me again," she quietly told him.

"What are they offering?" he shifted, allowing himself to face her.

"Oh," she stuttered slightly, "Associate professorship,"

"And?" he probed

She sat up, blushing slightly, "Two-hundred and eighty a year base pay with benefits,"

"That's amazing," he smiled, "County's only offering you two-fifty,"

Neela nodded, "Plus a signing bonus and if I stay with them for three years…they'll pay off all of my student loans,"

Simon's blue eyes widened significantly. "Seriously?" she nodded with a small smile. "That's perfect. That's really, really wonderful,"

Her brows furrowed. "You're not…upset?"

His face screwed in question. "Upset…why, why would I be upset?"

"I don't know. Your uncle went out of his way to make sure that I had an open and waiting position at County. And you and Lucien…all of you pulled out the stops for me,"

Simon's face softened to a smile. "Neela, firstly, my uncle adores you and I think that he would have done all of this to keep you even if we weren't together. The fact that we are just adds fuel to the fire. You have no idea what a breath of fresh air you are at Anspaugh gatherings. I'm the first one of my generation to bring home someone who has more brain cells than blonde highlights," he laughed, "And secondly…A top hospital is offering to pay you loads _and_ is throwing money out to pay off your hundreds of thousands of dollars worth of student loans," he shook his head to her, "You'll be starting monetarily fresh. You know how hard that is in our profession? It took me years to pay mine off. And I started when I was in undergrad," he laughed, cupping her cheek.

"I know…but I still feel bad. If I take this job, then I'll be leaving County. It's my home there. Everything is there. You-you don't feel like I'm abandoning everything?" she glanced up at him through her furrowed brows.

He laughed, squeezing her arms. "Are you kidding? You're being given an amazing opportunity _fifteen minutes_ from home. I'm just happy that you're staying in Chicago. All that other stuff is just extra," he chuckled. "I thought I was going to have to start finding a job in North Carolina. We were touch and go with Duke for a while last spring,"

She was silent for a moment, gauging his response. "You would do that? You would have moved to North Carolina?"

He pursed his lips, a sincere blush rushing from his neck to his cheeks. "I, uh…yeah," he laughed almost shamefully, scratching the base of his head. "I googled it a few times,"

Neela did not know what to say, how to respond to such a disguised overture. Shaking her head, she continued. "I guess I couldn't leave Chicago," she shrugged it off.

"Well in its defense, Chicago didn't want you to leave either," he comfortably situated himself again, wrapping his arms around her petite body and resting his head against the soft headboard. "And Anspaugh already knew that keeping a Yale educated Bio-physicist – slash molecular biologist – slash trauma surgeon was slim to none,"

She laughed, batting his arm. Simon always loved playing her up to being something huge. "I'm just a general surgeon right now. I haven't even taken a fellowship or anything,"

"A general surgeon who studied in the ER for three years before training underneath the great Lucien Dubenko, for all purposes, Love, you've already had years of a fellowship study,"

In that picturesque moment, the last thing that Neela wanted to do was allow her mind to wander. And yet, it did. Not only did it wander, but her brilliant brain wandered to a dark place.

She squeezed his arm pulling herself up. "Can I ask you a question?"

"Mhmm," he nuzzled at her.

"I know that this is the most terrible moment to ask this…and I may be ruining this and I just…"

He faced her, a concerned look in his eyes. "What is it?"

She closed her own eyes tightly, pushing the inevitably awkward words out, "Why, after, you know, why did it just drop? Why did you just suddenly not…" she exhaled with a loss of words. Suddenly, she wished she hadn't spoken at all.

He sat back, taken aback by her words. He knew that it would come up one day or another, his decision to completely move on from the notorious weekend.

"Well," he started, seeing the almost frightened, but curious, look in his girlfriend's dark eyes. "Well I," he stopped again, mulling it over.

Simon had read once that it was the true test of a relationship, not when one decided to be unfaithful, but when the innocent party made the decision on what to do next – for the choice did indeed fall into their lap then. It was when one chose to forgive the other and move on; that was the true showman of love. And so when he was presented with the situation, he did the only thing that his mind and heart told him to do. He _chose_ to stay with Neela, to forgive the shortcoming, turn the other cheek and move on.

The look on her face betrayed all of her emotions that night, the guilt and sorrow that bundled in great turmoil beneath her caramel skin. He could see the stormy regret in her eyes, the strong sense of embarrassment and confusion, uproar and turbulence wreaking havoc on her conscience. She looked terribly distraught, and sad, and an utterly disturbed mess. And still she was as tragically beautiful as he ever knew.

And as he gripped her hand tightly in the car that cold night, he knew that he would do anything and everything in and out of his power to force her to smile, to hold her together, to never have her be witness to such pain again.

It was at that moment in time that Simon knew he loved Neela Rasgotra

He shrugged, a thin line on his lips, "I knew that I would love you one day. I wasn't going to throw it away over a regrettable weekend," He chose to leave it there, not wanting to scare her by knowing that he had felt so deeply for her for such a long time.

She sat back, her eyes darkening in deep thought. She was still gripping his arm tightly; she noticed as her nails dug, breaking his eternally sun blushed skin. "You," she stuttered, "You knew… that you were going to _love_ me?" It came out as more of a question than a statement.

He laughed, shaking his head and holding the sides of her face. Inhaling deeply, he sheepishly smiled. "I love you,"

"You love me, _now_?" she questioned, feeling as if everything were going over her normally knowing head.

Vibrating with a chuckle he held her chin. "I love you _now_," His teeth pushed through in a genuine smile. "I don't want to scare you off. I don't…I don't want you to freak out on me or anything. I don't expect you to say it back to me, Neela,"

She nodded quickly, shaking her head from side to side. "Oh," was all she could say. "Well…Oh,"

"I'm sorry," he quickly apologized. "I didn't mean to put you on the spot…or…I mean I wasn't even going to say anything, but,"

"No," she couldn't help but laugh. "You haven't done anything wrong," she allowed her head to drop to her hands. "I am so not reacting in the proper way,"

"Nonsense," he smiled, combing his fingers through her hair, "You're reacting the _Neela_ way. Things aren't easy with you,"

She snorted. "Tell me something I don't know,"

Simon pulled her towards him on the bed, noting the lateness that their conversation took. He assured her with calming words that he expected nothing back from her and that he was neither suspicious nor disappointed. In all truth, he was just sort of happy to get it off of his chest. She on the other hand could not rest. She just lay there with her head on his trunk. Thinking. Thinking a lot.

She felt like it had been hours upon hours that she stayed awake, examining her inner self for answers she wished she had. The L-word was so much…so real. She never used it lightly, except for…well except for the time that ultimately spawned the recent conversation. She knew that she cared about Simon tremendously and she cared about the life that they had together.

And after such a long time of thinking, she resolutely came to an inner agreement.

"Simon," she whispered.

"Yes," he responded sleepily.

"I think…" she inhaled deeply, "I think that I love you too,"

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Author's Note: I hope that this chapter helped answer a few questions that i know you all have. I apologize to my diehard Roomie fans out there. This chapter may have been a little difficult to swallow. I'm just asking for a little faith...and maybe some reviews. I love you guys!


	14. Chapter 14

**Title: The Hours Home**

**Author: BelleG08**

**Summary: You. You have taken all of me without giving any back. You have broken me down to nothing and yet you have shown me what it is to be alive. Ray/Neela/Simon**

**Notes: _Change is inevitable_**

**----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

**Chapter 14**

The woman's tears were gut-wrenching.

Her words, all strung out in one long plea, came out as more of a prayer than a question of her condition.

Neela felt like she was going to be particularly sick.

"Mrs. Miranda," the male accented voice soothed, "We're very, very sorry,"

"We were going to be a family," were the only words that the young surgeon could understand as she watched the frail woman grasp onto the hands of her stoic husband. "We were going to be happy,"

"I'm so very sorry," Simon reiterated, biting down in his thin lips. "We're waiting for the oncologist to come down and speak with you," Neela took his cue and stood, waiting to leave. "If either of you need anything, just let us know," With one final, remorseful nod, Simon and Neela walked out of the room.

"Thank you for saving me in there," she huffed in gratefulness, shuddering underneath her white coat. "That's the difficult part. I still can't seem to do it some days,"

"Well it's not something nice to get used to," he rubbed her shoulder. "But it's part of the job,"

"It's just so sad. They're so young,"

He ran a hand through his curled locks, "Cancer is blind to age,"

"Yeah," she shrugged, centering herself, "I don't know…It's not like I've never done it before. I've just never been that wonderful at the bedside hugging part anyway,"

Simon chuckled, "Well, darling, that's why you're the surgeon," he nudged her playfully, "And I'm the one who has to deal with people," She looked down with a shameful grin.

That was always a plus side to being in the surgical field, as far as patient connections were concerned, it was the portion of medicine where one could almost completely detach themselves from the humanity of their subject. It was science, her art of surgery, science of the anatomy of the body. Tears were for the post and pre – operatives. Surgeons, for the most part, did the brunt work of fanciness.

A small white rectangle caught her eye. "What have you got there?"

Simon's hand froze around the cardstock paper. He slowly flipped it between his fingers. "This? Oh, a patient just passed me his business card," he off-handedly shrugged. "What time are you off today?"

"Four. You're still off in an hour?" she stopped to drop off a few charts at the admit desk.

"Yes ma'am. But I've got an appointment to check in on, so I'll be at your apartment afterwards. Be ready to leave for around six, alright?" he shoved his hands boyishly into his jacket pockets. "None of that last minute hair mumbo-jumbo pomade, whatever you want to call it stuff," he lightheartedly warned.

Her dark eyes instantly widened as she began to walk away from the trauma desk, "That's enough," she admonished. He followed with a laugh, walking her to the elevators. "Oh I almost forgot to ask," she shook her dark head of hair, "How was the third round of interviews?"

He shrugged, pressing the button for her, "It was alright, I guess. They're hiring from within now so that gives me a good shot. But Archie's been here for the longest, so I'm not sure,"

"I'm sure you were impressive as always," she smiled as the elevator doors began to open. "Dr. Anspaugh surely sees that,"

"You know you don't always have to be so formal with him," he raised a brow. Even after such time, Neela never got around to dropping the dignified labels.

"Oh _Please_ don't tell me you're going to start with the _'Uncle Donnie'_ titles too now," Archie Morris butted in complaint as he stepped out of the elevator. "I think one nepotistic parasite is enough for the whole hospital,"

"Oh calm it," Simon laughed, patting his co-doctor's shoulder. He pointed through the closing doors. "And don't forget, six sharp. The ER Christmas party won't wait for us, puffy hair and all,"

With a mutter, she rolled her eyes as the doors came to a close. "Arrogant little god-given curly haired bastard,"

It seemed to be that the flags were always changing down in the ER at County General Hospital. There were always patients coming and going, doctors leaving and returning, and today – chiefs relinquishing their thrones.

"You got a name for the little Bambina?" the elder desk clerk's rough voice questioned.

Cate Banfield rolled her dark eyes, "No, not yet Frank," she gathered her belongings. "But you'll be the first to know,"

"I feel like you're pulling my leg," he gruffly commented. "Don't take my stapler,"

The senior doctor scoffed. "You borrowed that stapler from me three months ago. And I would never, _ever_ _touch_ your leg,"

"I don't blame you," Archie shuddered as he and Brenner made their way to admit. "Never know where that thing's been,"

"Bite me, Agent Orange," was the older man's crotchety response.

"Oh, I can't _wait_ till one of us is _your_ boss, old man," Archie happily bit down on his lip, motioning between he and the Australian doctor at his right. "First order of business, you're out…_anyone else_ is in,"

"You'll be sorely missed, Dr. Banfield," Simon cut in, "But we're very happy for you here. No such better deserving people,"

"Well thank you, Dr. Brenner," she nodded in accordance before stepping away. "And I'm not gone yet, still two more hours,"

"Hmph," Frank chuckled. "So when are you two schmucks procreating, furthering your genius line?"

The two young men stopped, not quite expecting that to come out of their desk clerk's normally foul mouth. "I…uh," Morris stuttered, "Well Claudia and I have only been married for a few months…and we, well-" he furrowed his brows, "Why the hell do you want to know?"

"Touchy," Frank backed, "I guess we won't be seeing more little reds running here around any time soon,"

"It's just personal, Frank. You know, as in none of your business and _totally_ unprofessional?" the shorter one stressed.

"This coming from the man who used to give elective mammograms, _pro bono_, not to mention the time when you came here in your _underoos_," deciding that there was nothing left from Morris, Frank moved on. "What about you, Brenner? When are you and that Ivy League terrorist going to pop out some little Brit-stralian babies?"

Morris sputtered his hot coffee, quickly side glancing, "They aren't even married, you oaf!"

"Well that's never stopped anyone in this incredibly fertile place before…that and with the amount of great minds around here, no one has seemed to discover the little medical phenomena known as _birth control_," the desk clerk's matter-of-fact face was priceless, "Unexpected babies are always cropping up around the corner."

"Um," Simon shot him a bewildered, yet pensive, look. "Well that's kind of…that's kind of personal, Frank,"

He shook his head in irritation, "You know, you two are a couple of grade A yahoos. You've got to pop them out while you're still healthy enough to not go into cardiac arrest the second they slam you with report cards and sex talks" He turned his back on them, continuing his bitter, old man rant.

The two young doctors took their cue to exit thankfully.

"So…you and Neela," Archie commented, falling into step with his coworker, "Getting pretty serious, huh?"

Simon pressed his lips to a small, inconspicuous smile. In a very puerile fashion, he unconsciously shoved his hands into his jacket pockets. "Yeah, Archie, I guess so," his smile grew. "She's a good girl,"

"She's a really good girl," the redhead agreed. There was an awkward suspension that fell between the two men. Shutting his eyes, Morris spoke sincerely, "I'm happy for you two,"

Brenner did nothing to hide his genuine surprise, "Are you?"

He rolled his expressive eyes, "If Neela's happy, Brenner, then I'm happy,"

A few floors up, Neela Rasgotra had already begun scrubbing in for her obstructed bowel procedure. She could almost remember years ago when the sheer act of washing her arms and hands would thrill her from the inside out, roughly scrubbing the impurities from her upper extremities, when the idea of even being present for any type of surgery outweighed everything else for the day, a time when surgery was the greatest thing on earth.

Now it was so routine; some procedures she was sure she could do in her sleep.

"Ready to go, Doctor?" Her senior surgeon called over the intercom. She nodded her head silently. Once fully sterilized, she made her way into the OR.

The standard courses of action were moving along quite smoothly. She and Dr. Dubenko were soul-mated when it came to the Operating Room, as if their hands knew each other better than their respective owners. They were almost three-fourths of the way through with no kinks or setbacks. It was when they reached the homestretch of the procedure when Neela felt the familiar rug being pulled from under her.

"So," the older surgeon began, completely ignoring the other members in the room, "Have you thought about marriage?"

If it weren't for Neela's catlike reflexes when sharp objects were nearby, she surely would have dropped the clamps in her hands. "Excuse me?" she choked from behind her mask.

"Marriage…have you thought about marriage?" When nothing emitted from Neela's gaped mouth, he clarified, "not to me…"

"Well," she sputtered, biting down on her lips. "What are you talking about?"

"Oh come on, Neela," he urged. "I don't know. You're not old, but you're definitely _older_. People at your age date in terms of marriage, you know,"

She glanced around embarrassedly for some sort of help, her cheeks reddening as she met the smiling eyes of her colleagues.

Leave it to Lucien Dubenko to speak so freely of incredibly sensitive subjects at the most inopportune times.

"Lucien, I don't think-"

Not looking up to meet her pressing eyes, he continued. "You have to start thinking about things, what you want. Do you want to settle down and be married and have two point five kids with a dog and an island in the kitchen? That's stuff that you need to think about, especially in your field. You, as a top surgeon, do not have the luxury of something that familial and glamorous,"

She almost had to laugh at the randomness of their spurred conversation. "Where the hell is this coming from?"

He shrugged, unconsciously furrowing his brows before asking for suction. "We've been talking about your future lately, going to Northwestern and whatnot. This kind of goes in with all of it,"

"Well, sure…but…"

"See, take this guy for example," he motioned to the unconscious patient before him, "Thirty-nine year old fairly healthy male – minus his intestinal obstruction. Just from speaking to him, we've come to learn that he's incredibly successful, wealthy, good-looking…but no family,"

"It's not our place to judge that," she told him sternly.

"Well I'm not judging. I'm just pointing out a fact. I'm the same way. I'm successful, and I have no real relationships other than…well, all of you," he smiled at their small audience. "I remember a few years ago when you were complaining to me about how the only relationship you had was with _Harold_,"

She couldn't help but chuckle, remembering her old intern. Lucien met her smile, continuing on his soap box.

"It's just something that _I've_ chosen. I've never really been presented with a situation otherwise, though." He motioned for sutures. Lucien glanced over his shoulder, seeing the empty observational deck, and continued, "Of course, you do have the luxury of a significant other who knows what it's like to be a doctor. That may or may not be a good thing,"

"Lucien," she admonished, silently relieved that the final stitches were being sewn.

He craned his neck down, "I understand if this is too personal for you to talk about,"

She scoffed. 'Too Personal' was a slight understatement.

"It's just very unlike you to bring something like this up…something so," she shook her head, lowering her voice to no apparent success, "so _private_,"

"We're done here," Dr. Dubenko announced, motioning for he and Neela's departure. She stepped down from her lift and followed him out to the basins. Pulling off their gloves and aprons, they began to scrub down. "We're more then just colleagues, aren't we? I mean…we're friends,"

She chuckled, "Sure," she focused her sights on the routine washing before her.

"Well it was just something that I wanted you to think about, the sacrifices between work and a home – both with meaningful and additive merits on their own," he added, shutting the water off with his left hand. "Something every young person should think about, really,"

Neela nodded, eventually turning her water off. She shut her eyes, drying off her arms and hands, willing away the unusually poignant feelings, pressing the pit of her stomach. She huffed, exhaling a large puff of air.

"Lucien," Neela called out as Dubenko began to walk out.

"Yes?" he turned on his tennis shoe to face her perplexed face.

"If you were presented with the opportunity…to have both," she wrung her hands together, "Would you have?"

"Rarely, do you ever get both, Neela, _really_ get both. What I'm trying to convey in all of this is just…make your sacrifices where it counts. Seize your opportunities when they're right, because they won't wait for you," he nostalgically smiled, looking over his shoulder, "And I've always wondered what it was like on the other side. So if I were ever presented with _either _one of those options, let alone _both_, I would take it in a heartbeat,"

--er--

Over the course of their year-plus-long relationship, Neela had come to know Simon very well. She knew that he took his coffee with sugar, no cream, all day long. He was a stickler for breakfast, the most important meal of the day. He had an uncanny need to celebrate everything with a large present, expensive dining, flowers, candy – all the stops. He'd rather drive than take the El, and to boot, was always a very punctual person. So when he apologetically phoned her, asking her to take a cab to pick him up at a remote location for five-forty-five since he was running late, Neela was slightly off-put. It was very unlike him to lose track of the time. For all purposes, his entire day was scheduled. They were alike in that way, both organized, both meticulous, both structured.

And as she sat in the back of the yellow taxicab, she realized much more than that, Neela had learned of the man beneath the _Oxford_ shirts and _Brooks_ _Brother's_ ties. There were many more layers to Simon Brenner than met the eye. Everyone had their dark moments. Everyone had their secrets. Everyone had the deep abyss of their beings that no one else knew of.

Simon was no different.

He had secrets too.

It was during that tumultuous time of bleary greyness months ago, when she realized that she had done something no other had ever done before. She had been allowed through his reinforced walls of emotional barriers, that Simon had let her in. She could remember it like it was yesterday, the fights that they would get in, the nights of silent sleep, the mornings of mumbled apologies and finally the heart-breaking admissions of truth. And instead of leaving him, like he so pushed her away for, she stubbornly stuck to him like peanut butter on toast. Maybe it was her natural defiance, or her inferiority complex, or just her need to prove someone wrong, but for some innate reason, Neela _needed_ to hold his hand through it all.

It was a decision that she never regretted.

Her brows furrowed as the car came to a halt before a foreign place on North Freemont. Realizing that it was, in fact, her destination, she quickly swiped her card and stepped out onto the icy street. Hurriedly, she pulled her phone from her evening clutch.

"Simon," she barked. "I'm outside. Where are you?"

"The gate's open," were the only words he spoke before hanging up.

Ignoring the outside menagerie, she made her way through the open gate, up the snow covered steps and passed the unlocked front door. "Where are you?" she demanded, shaking off the snowflakes that accumulated on her pea coat.

"Just follow my voice," she could hear his chuckle. Neela was not a fan of games. And very quickly, she was starting to get annoyed by the hunt. It did not take her long to find him off in one of the anterooms, sitting at a bay window.

He said nothing, only smiling at her in the dim light. Night had already fallen and the only lighting in the home was from a chandelier in corner. "What is this?" she finally questioned, shaking her head with a questioning façade.

He stood, holding an expandable folder in his hands and apprehensively meeting her in the center of the room.

He took a deep breath and assertively spoke, "This is the office," he pointed to the far corner, "Over there is where we could put the desk, or _desks_ if you want to keep things separate," he squared his shoulders, as if by rehearsal, "Those bookshelves can hold everything from Proust, to Voltaire, the New England Journal of Medicine, or-or your monthly issues of Cosmo," he laughed seriously, moving closer. "It, em, it overlooks the patio in the back,"

Her head spun. She was breathless, not quite following. "What?"

He bit down on his bottom lip, pulling out a white business card. "I treated a patient with a carpal sprain today and he off-handedly told me about this property he was listing," Her mouth fell to an open gape. "So I met with him this afternoon," he held her hands. "What do you think?"

"This…this house?" she motioned around, rotating her body three hundred degrees, attempting to soak in her surroundings. For the first time since she arrived, Neela finally noticed the bareness that was the open property. "This-"

"We spend the vast majority of our time together, in one of our apartments. My lease is up at the end of the month and I know that yours is also," he inhaled deeply. Pulling her to the more lighted area, he opened the accordion folder and showed her the pictures, ins and outs of the home they stood in. "It's got bedrooms and bathrooms, and a kitchen that doesn't have to act as a dining room or study or laundry sorting area...unless you want that," He shook his head nervously, motioning around him and continuing his plea, "an _office_, which could also be used as a library of sorts, erm," he rummaged through the laminated papers, "two fireplaces," he chuckled, "I don't know what we could do with two fireplaces, but I'm sure that it'll help with the frigid winters." The taller man furrowed his blonde eyebrows, gauging her response.

Neela was dumbfounded, barely soaking in the information presented to her. "Simon," was the only thing she could say. She shook her head, "This…how could we afford this. I'm just a res-"

"By next year, you won't be a resident anymore," he smiled, his voice breaking at a higher pitch. "And, there's another bit of good news," he shrugged his shoulders in a deep inhalation, "I got the call a few hours ago," his eyes danced in anticipation, "I'm the new Chief,"

"What!" she exclaimed. "That's fantastic!" instantly forgetting the moment that they were in, she wrapped her arms about his mid-section. "Simon, that's…congratulations! I'm so very proud of you"

"And so…we won't really be needing for money," he squeezed her, "At least not for awhile. With the market, this is such a good deal, Neela,"

She nodded silently, her mouth still open slightly. Her eyes suddenly widened, choosing to step back, taking in her surroundings. "You want… to move in together?"

He grasped her hands tightly, pulling her to seat near the windows. "I want us to move together, yes, here in this gorgeous house. I want us to make this our home," he smiled. "I'm sorry if I seem like I'm rushing you. I don't mean to. You have every right to say no to this." He shook his head in sudden doubt. "I will fully and completely understand if this is too much for you,"

Neela exhaled, rolling her eyes to the corners of the tall room. "This home is beautiful,"

Simon nodded, agreeing. "It's ten minutes from Northwestern Memorial. It's ten minutes from County," he motioned out the window, "Lincoln Park is _right_ there. So when you go and run for your morning work out, it won't be too far to go home to shower. It's got a garage. So you don't have to rent a spot anymore for a car that you barely use,"

"This place seems kind of perfect, huh?" she creased her forehead in question.

"A little, yeah," he acquiesced. He squeezed her tiny hands, with a level of excitement rushing to his hushed voice, "I don't know, Neela. I just saw this opportunity. And I knew that I couldn't let it go without the chance of even just presenting it to you,"

She comprehensively nodded. Neela seemed to be in her own world by this point in time, standing up from their position and moving about the room, peeking her head from the entryway and looking into the ingress corridor.

Simon nervously wiped his calloused hands on his dress slacks. Rubbing his jaw roughly, he called to her. "You don't have to say '_yes'_, Neela. I'm-I'm sorry. This is too soon. I…I don't know. I mean we've been together for a long time, and I guess I just got overly excited. The agent said that if we could close before the end of the year, then the pricing would be significantly lower," uneasy beads of sweat began to roll down from his temples in desperation as the silent minutes passed. His ramblings seemed to fall on deaf ears then. By that time, she had already turned on the lights and meandered her way around parts of, what he assumed to be, the first floor.

Apprehensively, he followed her, finally finding the young woman in the vast kitchen. She stood silently at the island, her arms folded across her dressed up self. Her gaze seemed to blank as she mugged the vacancy where the refrigerator should be. Simon did not know what to expect, but like a panicky snowball, he more and more began to regret bringing her here. Deciding that maybe this was not such a good idea at all, he feared that his giant leap was much too much for her to handle.

"Neela," he whispered pleadingly, gripping the counter tops tightly, turning his fair knuckles a yellowish white, "Please, just say something,"

For the first time in what seemed like an eternity, her dark eyes tore away from the brick kitchen walls, refocused and met his light gaze. And she spoke soft words that he never thought she would utter.

"Do you want to get married?"

He wished that there was a tripod camera handy, because then surely his most dumbfounded, gaped open look would be caught on film to have a good laugh at. For what seemed like eons, he could not quite find the words to say. His mouth only repeatedly opened and closed for what he could only assume to be hundreds of thousands of times.

In all seriousness, he was rendered speechless for a whole minute.

"Do you…_not_ want to marry me?" her voice sounded concerned. "I just…I mean you're asking me to move in-"

"What?" he shook his head, closing the gap between them. He dropped the folder to the counter and grabbed her arms. "Of course I want to marry you!" he suddenly came to his senses.

"Well you could say something and not just stand there silently like a dumb idiot," she admonished.

He chuckled, dropping his head with a shake. "Leave it to you to scold me, right after you proposed," sincerely, he eyed her. "Neela, believe me…the prospect of marrying you has crossed my mind more times than I could ever count," Simon gently caressed her blush-covered cheek, "I just never imagined you beating me to the proposal finish line,"

Neela half-smiled. When she finally got around to it, she was always a creature of action.

"Of-of course i want to marry you. Of course i want to be with you...as long as we both shall live," he laughed truthfully, "This house was supposed to be a huge leap and bound in that direction. I just want to do it right," he bit his lip, cupping her head, "I don't have a ring and - "

She placed her hand on his chest, "I don't need grand gestures, Simon," she truthfully explained to him, "As lovely as they are, it's not the huge things that matter to me,"

"They matter to me,"

"Well you're a materialistic arse, so…" she teased.

He laughed, holding her hands. "My dear, you've just proposed to me,"

"I won't tell anyone otherwise if you feel that it emasculates you,"

"I'm not even on one knee," he motioned to their meshed bottom half.

She rolled her eyes, "A mere yes or no will suffice...and no one's stopping you from dropping down to a knee,"

With a joyful laugh, he bent over, falling to a knight's stance, holding her hands to his lips.

Staring up at her, over her tiny knuckles, he breathed "Well, then I accept your proposal,"

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Will i keep you readers if i let it slip out that something BIG is happening very soon?

So, since this chapter was, yet again, quite hard to swallow. I figured it would be okay since there was a lovely REELA REUNION last night. and in a word, "_finally"_ it was just lovely. (although needing in more roomie scenes). How did you all like it?

Thank you again lovely readers!


	15. Chapter 15

**Title: The Hours Home**

**Author: BelleG08**

**Summary: You. You have taken all of me without giving any back. You have broken me down to nothing and yet you have shown me what it is to be alive. Ray/Neela/Simon**

**Note: Super sorry for my lack of updates! **

**-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

**Chapter 15**

_"And the Day came when the risk to remain tight in a bud was more painful than the risk it took to blossom" - Anais Nin_

There were many emotions rampaging through her insides that day, many, many emotions pushing and shoving and elbowing their way through her visceral regions, needing for the primal spot just to elicit a single feeling, a single tear or laugh or melodramatic sigh. They were all emotions that she had felt numerously one time or another, all emotions that had evoked such actions, conscious or subconsciously, before – all emotions that were anything but foreign.

And yet, as they fought to gain control within her, wrenching for her to wave the white flag and let out anything, on the final day that she would be considered an employee at County General Hospital, Neela _felt_ absolutely _nothing_.

Nothing

When the nurse that she had worked side-by-side with for the passed seven years held her in an almost tearful embrace, Neela could only pat her back with a nostalgic sigh. So as Sam Taggart so graciously thanked her for her recommendations to work up in the OR, instead of the heartfelt 'your welcomes' that were so deserved, the only thing that Neela could muster were a few half-assed compliments.

When Tony Gates, a former flame, told her how much he would miss her totalitarian commands and persnickety comments, she could only quirk her lips to what a naked eye may consider a smile.

When her resident, Andrew Wade, who by all means had thoroughly grown from a nervous little intern to a self-assured R-2, had expressed his sorrow over her leaving, she could only force a hopeful grin, telling him how he would do perfectly fine without her holding his hand.

For all purposes, Neela was merely going through the motions of her final County shift. Like a shell, she finished.

She attributed her somewhat numb attitude to the numerous changes she had going on in her life. What with her rapid move and her switching jobs, Neela honestly had no time to feel. She just had to do. But wasn't that what it was like to be a doctor in the first place? A _trauma_ surgeon no less? She was fully equipped for moving on her toes at a moment's notice without so much as an eyelash bat. She wasn't expected to feel. What she was expected to do was to think, very well, very quickly and then take action in an identical manner.

So far, such behavior had served her fairly well.

Neela checked her wrist watch as she meandered about the busy corridor. Two hours left. She had two hours left as a worker there, as a resident, as a _student_ of someone other than mere medicine.

And as she made her way through, she could easily make not that there were very few things that changed at County. The smell was what she had always remembered: stale, sterile, spiked with _eau de bandaids_ and low-sodium cafeteria food. The lights were never fully working. Never once did all panels of a fluorescent have power to its full capacity, resulting in a monotonous flash of a nearly out bulb. The air was always laced with a certain frazzled element of urgency. And the people…well the people were still the same.

Neela silently walked by Curtain Three. It was empty at that point, just a bed with fresh linens. She stood stoically, just staring, trying to count how many people she had seen at curtain three alone. She remembered her year as a medical student there, at a moment when she accidentally pushed far too much epinephrine into her resident, who in all reality needed it after going into anaphylactic shock. Her face grew to a small grin.

"What are you smiling at?" Archie Morris nudged her as he moved passed her, placing a clipboard at the admit desk. "Was it the cake? Because I don't know…that cake just isn't sitting well with me," he rubbed his belly with a sour look. "I think Frank bought it from the _day old_ rack at _Whole Foods_,"

She shook her head, ignoring his jab. Her going away party was perfectly lovely, off cake and all. "Remember when we had to shock Cooper?"

"Oh," Morris smiled, "Haha, oh yeah. You pushed too much epi,"

"You _gave me_ too much epi," she corrected with a point of a finger and a shake of the head, "And we shocked him without sedative,"

"Trooper, that guy," Archie smiled. After erasing a portion of the board, he turned around to face her. Boyishly shoving his hands into his pockets, he shrugged. "So…strolling down memory lane?"

She shrugged. "Kind of," her mouth moved to a small smile. "I guess I can't help but remember,"

"I get you," he agreed. "Hey, remember when you thought that Clemente was hot?"

Neela grunted with a disgusted eye roll. Using her strength, she faced him in their Northwestern direction. "How about in sutures where we tazed you?"

"Ha Ha," he returned her smirk. Throwing an arm over her small shoulders, the two fell into step, walking down the seemingly quiet corridor. He stopped suddenly, bringing her to a halt along with him, "Remember Daniel?" he motioned to Trauma room Two.

She inhaled deeply, hugging her arms in a cross over her mid-section. With thin lips, she nodded. "Yeah, I do,"

"Going through the motions everyday, you know. We treat hundreds, thousands every week. And I couldn't tell you who or when or why," he squeezed her shoulder. "I couldn't pick out a face in the crowd even though we've probably treated them one way or another at some time. But him…"

"You don't forget that," she nodded. "He was a troubled man,"

"Well," he cocked his head, "He'd do anything for his girl…can't blame him there,"

Neela silently agreed. That dreary April day still sent shivers up her spine. One never forgets the day a gun was held point blank to her head, "We handled ourselves well in there…under pressure,"

"Yeah, that we did," He agreed quietly. Shaking his head quickly, he smiled. "We survived," He pulled her to pivot on her heel, pointing her to Curtain four's direction. "I heard that's where you got into a beat down,"

For the first time that day, Neela laughed. "Oh God…the Demerol Fight," she shook her head with a good laugh. "Me and Carter and…" she breathed in deep, "And Ray, we did get into an all out throw down,"

Archie's smile reached from ear to ear. "I heard that you almost got someone with a bedpan,"

"Yeah," she agreed with a grin. "Right after the addict of a woman broke Ray's nose." The male doctor watched as his companion's eyes almost glazed over.

"Hey…uh, have you talked to him lately?"

She licked her lips. "Er, no," she forced a small smile. "I haven't. I assume he's doing alright though," her voice rose a few notes with her final words, something that did not go unnoticed.

"Good," he rocked back and forth on his heels, "That's really good,"

Her dark eyes continued with their glassy appearance.

"Archie," she shut her eyes tightly.

"Ma'am?"

"We're engaged," she shrugged.

"You and…Wow," Archie Morris could honestly say that he did not expect that. "That's great, Neela. Wow," he was obviously at huge loss of words, "Congrats- um…Best…ah," he shook his head. "I always get those two confused. My grandma drilled them into my head before the wedding. But I think you tell the groom '_Congratulations'_ and _'Best Wishes_' to the bride…or maybe it's the other way around. I don't know," he ran an embarrassed hand through his red hair, which quickly resembled the pigment of his ashamed face. Composing himself with a deep breath, he continued, "I wish you the best, Neela,"

"Heh,"' she nervously laughed, "Thank you,"

He quickly took a glance to her neck. "Didn't want to necklace the ring?"

She shrugged, "It happened kind of quickly. No ring yet,"

"No date yet, I gather?"

"No," she negated, "I think after we move in and get settled, then we can plan. But no big rush, though," she hugged her arms to her chest. "We've just been so busy. I mean in the course of the passing week, by the grace of god my credit passed, we were able to close on the house, sign away my lease, and pack up everything that I own into seven Home Depot boxes," she chuckled, "The only things left in my apartment are my toothbrush and a change of clothes," She always had the tendency to either speak in monosyllabic answers or paragraphs of nothingness.

"I…I here ya. Moving always takes up your life," he nodded. "But, I'm happy for you. Really, you guys are…you know I've never seen Brenner so happy before. You're – You've been really good for him,"

"Yeah,"

_Oh Bugger. Shit. And Damn_. Neela bit down hard on her bottom lip. She was never the most overtly honest of people, but there were moments where, god forbid, she wore her ridiculous emotions on her sleeve. _Fudging Bollocks_. She blew a huff of air through her thin lips. "Can I ask you something?" Taking his silence as assertion, she mustered her courage to continue. "Do you…" she stared up, silently cursing herself. "Do you believe that there's only one person for you in life, that you're meant for one person in life, _truly_ made for?"

Not quite knowing where his petite friend was going, he chose to answer in truth. "Yeah," he nodded sincerely. "I really do,"

"And Claudia?"

"Is the one for me," he smiled genuinely. "And Simon?"

Her mouth moved to speak, but not before her eyes betrayed what stormed inside of her. Her lips blubbered. "Is…erm,"

"Hey," her Australian fiancé grinned as he made his way up to the duo. "What are you two up to?" he questioned, motioning to their stance affront the two empty trauma rooms.

"Well, uh," Archie sputtered. "We were —"

"I was telling Archie about how we met right here," she pointed downwards, "You and I,"

"Oh," Simon nodded with a smile. "Yeah…Yeah," he cocked his head to the side in reverie. "You were talking to Greg,"

"Mhmm," she pushed forth a smile as she placed an arm about his midsection. "And you walked by all full of yourself, like the prick that you are, and stopped me from touching the Thorn-Apple,"

"Haha…I can't believe you remember that,"

"Well you don't forget the first time you meet the love of your life, right chief?" Archie broke their small conversation. He took a deep breath. "Congratulations, man," he stuck out his hand. "Didn't think it was possible for someone to make an honest man out of you…but,"

Simon beamed, a head-to-toe glow, radiating from within. His white teeth showed through in a sincere smile as he took the man's hand, knowing that the adulations were meant for something far greater than a job promotion, "Thank you, Morris," he genuinely spoke. "Thank you very much,"

Archie nodded, patting his friend's arm. "You're welcome," without meeting Neela's eyes, he spoke. "I've got to go…but Neela," he turned to her finally. "If I don't see you before you go…don't be a stranger – no matter what,"

"Thank you, Morris," she smiled, leaning forward and pulling her friend of seven plus years into a great hug. She watched, feeling a certain pull inside of her, as he walked away.

A vibration at her waist caught Neela's attention. "Oh…I need to go," she motioned to her right.

"Ok, well…I'm going to grab your car keys from your locker and drive it over to the house," Simon stopped her. The day was not only Neela's final day at County, but her big move in day to their new home. Why the schedule so haphazardly fell that way, she'll never understand. "And then I'm going to pass by your apartment just to make sure the movers haven't left anything,"

She nodded quickly. "Alright. Ok then…I'll…I'll see you at home then,"

"Yeah," he whispered, placing a light kiss to her forehead. "I'll see you at home, Darling,"

At the end of the day, her heart was terribly heavy. That was the only thing she could truly be sure of as she proceeded to scrub down following her final surgery at County General. The balloon angioplasty procedure was as fine as she could have hoped, yes. But everything else all just seemed, well, _done_.

The sun had already set in Chicago that early night, causing her insides to churn in even more nostalgia, anxiety and maybe a twinge of regret.

Lucien Dubenko could read it all over his young protégée's face.

"Excited, doctor?" he voiced over the sound of the running water.

Her own timbre was low and crackly, lined with Sinicism and slight sarcasm. "Excited for what?"

He shut off the water and grabbed one of the available blue towels. "For this, for all of it. You're done," he forced a smile.

"Well, by all means, don't grieve over it," she snapped, pounding the faucet to shut it off. She tore the clothe from its neatly stacked pile, drying off her hands and throwing it into the hamper pile.

"What are you talking about?" her mentor followed her as she rampaged down the hall. He managed to corner her at the empty front desk. Save for the two of them, the corridor was eerily empty, not to mention dissonantly silent.

"I'm _leaving_, Lucien," she barked, fearing the salty moisture, building in her lacrimal glands, that so audaciously threatened to roll down her full cheeks. "You've said it yourself – I'm _done_ here,"

"It's not like we won't see each other," he shook his head, his voice ever laced with amiable gentleness.

"It's not that!" she shook her head, threateningly close to burst at the seams. Neela haphazardly fell to the stool, running a shaking hand through her thick mane of hair. "Am I making a mistake?"

"In leaving County?" he chuckled, "Sorry to break your heart, Neela, but County General Hospital isn't Disney World. There _are_ happier places on earth. You can barely get a parking spot without having to knock someone out,"

"I know, but…this is home," she began to silently finger the stack of papers before her. She always hated being so vulnerable, especially in front of her superiors, "I already know everyone here,"

"Don't let the first day jitters keep you out of the cool new class, Neela," he shook his head, "Northwestern's a great choice,"

"But if you had to make the-"

"Neela," he cut her off, "Be sure of yourself, take control. You made the decision. Stick with it until you're given true reason to change it," there was something so reassuring in her mentor's eyes, something so warm in his comforting voice, something so supportive that offered her no choice but to believe him.

Neela knew that she would cherish these moments with her teacher. Even more than a teacher, but a companion whom she would always treasure, someone who's always looked out for her, someone who's always believed in her. Lucien Dubenko was like the father that Neela didn't have west of the pond.

"You're scared," he spoke slowly. "That happens,"

"I'm terrified, Lucien," she admitted blinking profusely, successfully holding back her betraying bodily precipitation, "How the hell am I going to do this? How the hell am I going to learn everything? How am I going to teach people? All I _know_ is County. All I know is _you_," Her voice broke. "County is my _home_,"

His face fell to a loving grin. "Neela," he whispered, "You know, home isn't just the place where you grew up, or where you spent the most amount of time. It isn't just where things are easy and simple. Home is the place where you can be the best, where you can be the best surgeon you can be, the best doctor, the best Neela that there is," he gave her a somber smile, "And sometimes to get home, you have to sit through the traffic, and make it past the detours, and work through the road closures and annoying wrecks along the way. Sometimes, you've got to work to get home. But once you're there…you know it,"

"I've never known anything for sure," she almost yelled in utter frustration.

"That's not true," he hushed with his loving voice.

"All I know is that this is the place where I feel like I belong," her lips pouted to a straight line, holding back the tears that so wished to pour forth. "I don't even know why I decided to leave here in the first place,"

He grabbed her shoulders, forcing her upright. "Because it's a great opportunity, a great place that wants _you._ You'd be stupid _not_ to give it a go. And you're by far, _not_ a stupid doctor,"

She couldn't formulate anything to say. It was all hitting her so hard. Everything suddenly seemed so real. "Lucien, it's just…"

"Fine, okay…so let's say that you're right and County _is_ the place for you," he smiled, dipping his head to reach her watery gaze, "You've got to leave the house to know it's your home, Neela," he shook his head, "Look, if Northwestern isn't the place for you, then come back here. If this place is it, if we're your home…then we'll always be here and you'll always have a place here. That's how those things work. You can count on that,"

He always had a way of saying just the right things to calm her down, to make her see logic and ultimately make her realize just what it was that she needed to. Neela sighed as she pulled her dear, dear friend into a giant hug of an embrace. She held to him tightly, breathing slowly, in huge, somber puffs. She knew that she was going to miss him.

It was the final stop she had to make before she left the hospital that night. She breathed in deep, allowing the dark, cold, Chicago air burn on the way down, filling her lungs. Neela held her double-breasted coat tightly to her chest, squinting as she looked over the lit skyline.

The roof was always a place of solace for the doctors of her beloved hospital. It always held a quiet of serenity amidst the chaos that medicine. It held particularly close to her heart, though. It was the first time she had been back there since Michael had died almost five years ago. Maybe it was because she was too scared to revisit the past, too afraid to dig up the pain that losing a husband, however short their marriage was, weighed on a widow. Maybe it was the fact that going up there was just plainly and simply something that Neela did not want to do anymore.

But she needed to do this now.

In all of her changes going on in her life, she needed this moment of closure. For it was as if leaving County was like leaving Michael. Yes, he had been gone for awhile. But she was engaged now, to someone else. After all, he had called it.

For the first time that day, Neela allowed a single tear to roll down her face. She missed him, oh how she missed him. It wasn't like they were best friends or total and complete confidants. For all purposes, they hardly even knew each other.

But she loved him. She still loves him.

And their moments together were memories that she would forever treasure.

Neela leaned over the edge, staring down below. She could see the El tracks running parallel to the front of the building and just below, she saw her much adored _Jumbo Mart_. She inwardly chuckled. She wondered if Northwestern had a _Jumbo Mart_. Probably not, more than likely it had a _Circle K_ or a _Seven-Eleven_ that she would have to learn the ropes of in order to survive. She loved that minimart. It held so many memories of hers, so many times that were trivial, but seemed to mean so much more now.

She allowed her mind to wander, something she was very wary of. An idle mind was a scorned woman's playhand. That's what she knew.

An idle mind was something she refused to play with. Keeping busy and occupied was her secret to moving on…from things. She did it with Michael's death. And she did it with Ray. But lately, she had been slipping. More and more, she was thinking of him again. Not in the wistful, teary manner…but in a happy way. She wondered what he was doing. How he was. If he was through with his surgeries. There were even times when she thought that she had seen him, riding the El or grabbing a coffee. Even this morning, she could have sworn it was Ray running ahead of her near the lake.

Even now, Neela could imagine her old roommate standing before her, squinting in the wind and telling her to go home, telling her in pure thoughtfulness to consider herself. Even now, Neela could imagine her dear, sweet friend trying to take care of her. "God," she muttered to no one in particular. "I'm such a loser," she opened her eyes and just looked out.

Neela had just come to terms with the fact that that was what her life was going to be like. Some people just never went away. Some people just stayed with you forever.

And she was okay with that. She had a good man, a good life. She had moved on. She had done what she was supposed to do.

And as Neela took one more, last, deep inhale atop the huge, state funded institution, she opened her eyes and bid her final farewell to County.

-- er --

Neela stood before the huge house. She had been in and out of the place more times than she could count in the passed week. But this time, it was different. This time, she was going home to it. With a forthright skip in her step, Neela climbed the steps and crossed the threshold, champagne in hand.

"Honey," she joked at her own cliché, "I'm home,"

The lights in the foyer were on, along with the lights in the infamous study, which at this point in time housed their books. She made a mental note to buy more. Their built-ins looked sad. She passed the sitting room, and made her way to the den near the kitchen. She could hear the _'ahhs'_ of the television. Simon must be watching rugby again.

"Putting good use to the new flat screen, hmm?" she laughed, "I've got champagne!" She rounded the corner into the kitchen. "Sweetheart?" she questioned. There was no answer. Eyeing the room, she saw him sitting atop one of the boxes in the den. Placing the bottle at the island, she smiled. "Hey," His curly-haired toe head was backed to her. "Good game?"

He cleared his throat as she placed her arms about his shoulders. He visibly tensed. Furrowing her brows, she moved around and for the first time, faced him. What she saw shocked her. His eyes were bloodshot, glazed with the slightest layer of moisture.

In a scratchy voice, he finally spoke. "You know…you know that I'm all in, right?"

She smiled. "Of course I do. What…what's wrong?"

He exhaled heavily, running a weathered hand through his golden locks. In an instant, he met her gaze. He shook his head, "I love you," he stared at her point blank, "I didn't think that I was ever capable of loving someone so unconditionally, love anyone. But for reasons more than I can count, I love you, and I never had a problem with it," He pressed his lips to a thin line, feigning a small, somber grin, "And I learned very quickly that when you loved someone, you'll do anything and everything in your power just to see them smile. And I make you smile, yes," he met her gaze, "But I'm not the one who makes you happy,"

For a pregnant moment, she was rendered utterly speechless.

Collecting her bearings, she finally found the air to speak, "Simon," she gasped, not quite knowing what to say to that. "What are you…I love you, too. You know that," she nodded her head, finding a seat atop the brown packing box opposite him. She leaned forward, pulling his hands to hers, "You're the one who makes me happy. Only you…where the hell is all of this coming from?"

He shook his head, wrenching his hands away. He stood in virile might. "Where?" he wiped his face.

"Yes, _where_," she stood. "Please forgive me if I have no idea where you're getting all of this from,"

"I," he wiped the side of his tensed mouth. "God, Neela," he sucked in.

She stood, her arms outstretched, waiting for an answer.

He stared at her through the corner of his light eyes. Simon shook his head. In a swift movement, he pulled the piece of paper from his pocket, holding it delicately in his doctoring hands. "Because I can't be with you if you're writing something like this!" he gripped the paper tightly, waiving it before him. "You don't just write this kind of stuff for anyone,"

_Oh. My._

"Oh God," the words escaped her mouth before her filter could catch it.

She recognized it as soon as she saw the meticulously folded stationary. It was her letter. It was _the_ letter. It was what she had written to Ray after a terrible day last spring.

She gulped. "I wrote that a long time ago. It was, I had a bad day. I was just…I was lost," she shook her head, her words spilling apologetically from her mouth. "It was a long time ago,"

"Sure," he nodded, "But you weren't lying, were you?" Her silence spoke more than any words ever could. He stood, motioning to the emptiness around him. "You don't want any of this, do you?"

"It's not-"

"It's a simple answer, doctor," his face was so damaged with defeat. Neela could literally feel her heart breaking at just the sight.

"What?" she shook her head in confusion. "I don't know what the hell is going on!" she exclaimed.

"This is just…I'm all in," he stood before her, his arms outstretched.

He was sitting atop one of the brown packing boxes, his mouth in his hands as he leaned over his slack-covered knees. "I'm letting it all hang out here," he shrugged. "I'm all in," His eyes were broken. The once bright, cerulean orbs on his cherubic face were clouded with pain as he pressed his lips against his praying hands. His voice dropped to a mere, solemn whisper. There was no malice in his tone, no disgust or repugnance. Simon was just wholly and irrevocably hurt, "Jesus Christ, Neela, I'm right here," He shut his eyes, "I've been chasing you for the passed two years,"

"And I don't know what the problem is!" she countered. "This was just a stupid letter that I wrote a long time ago! I wrote it after a bad day. And I never sent it!" she shook. "I never even sent the damn thing!"

"Yes, but you kept it, Neela!" he struggled to keep his voice low. "You kept it! You know how I found it? It was in your locker. Just sitting there atop the shelf!" he motioned with his hands, still waiving the paper about. "It wasn't tucked away, or-or crumpled up. It was there, as if it greeted you every morning you opened the damn locker!"

"I'm sorry!" she flung her arms up. "What do you want me to do? I'm sorry I never threw it away, but that means _nothing_," her chest weighed heavy as she moved to hold his hands. "I love you!"

He said nothing, just stared at her, boring deep into her dark orbs. Simon shook his head sadly. He shook his head. "I don't know what happened in New York. You know," he shook his head, "When you told me that night at the airport, I saw so much regret and sorrow and despair in your eyes," he licked his lips. "I just automatically thought it was because you had betrayed us…not because things went awry between the two of you,"

"That was almost a year ago,"

"You know that's what I thought too," he shook his head. "That's what I kept on telling myself," he nodded with thin lips. "But then reading this…over and over and over again…"

"Why? Why are you doing this?"

He shook his head with a pensive frown. "You know what…I don't even know. I don't know anything anymore. But I do know how I feel about you," he held the letter, pointing down to the writing, "And it is _verbatim_ to what you have here,"

"Simon," she stepped forward.

He forced a small smile. "You don't just fall out of love with someone like this so easily, Neela…I can feel that in my heart. And I'm not stupid enough to be delusional over it,"

"Please, Simon," her voice began to shake, "I love you,"

He glanced forward, the colors of night reflecting against his watery eyes. "I believe that you love me. And, God, you know that I love you…but our hearts have different definitions of love for each other," he shrugged, "And that's not your fault…By the time I got to you, there just wasn't enough room in there left for me," he forced a smile, "go be with the person that takes up your whole heart,"

Her heart stopped. Her eyes stood still. Nothing moved as he spoke those damning words. After what seemed like eons, she spoke. Her voice was hard and low, laced with danger. "Excuse me?"

She stuttered, taken aback by his forthright. Not more than fifteen hours ago, they were sitting in the kitchen of their new home, picking out furniture from an online catalog. And now? Now Simon was telling her to go be with someone else. "You don't mean that,"

He said nothing, only shrugging and falling to seat back to the box.

She ripped her hands away angrily. "If you wanted to break up with me, you could have just said so…instead of this elaborate Tom Fullery,"

"Tom Full-"He wiped his face quickly; His eyebrows folded in fury. "You think I _want_ to do this, Neela? You think I want to send you away from me to be with some other man? Like hell I do. It makes my skin crawl just thinking of someone else _touching_ you, much less being with you…I want to be the man that you wake up with every morning. I want to be the man who holds you when you fall asleep at night. I want to touch your hair and kiss you and be with you forever, walking down the aisle with babies along the way. I want all of that with you…but I can't if you don't want that with me…If you're writing this kind of stuff to people, sent or not." He clenched his teeth tightly, wiping the sides of his mouth. "I won't do that if being with another person will make you happier,"

"Who are you to say that!?" she yelled for the first time. "Who the hell are you to make that decision for me?!"

"I've been selfish my whole life. I've taken what wasn't mine. I've left people in the dirt behind. I've burnt bridges and hurt so many people. But for the life of me…right now I can't seem to do that," He took a few hesitant steps forward, a strong, bittersweet line firmly planted on his lips. He grasped her hand in his, clutching it so tightly. "I don't want you to look back on your life with me and wonder _if_. That's not what I would ever want for you. That's not fair,"

Simon let out a bittersweet chuckle, closing his mouth and staring out of the floor-to-ceiling window. Neela could not see the square-shaped bulge, weighing tons in his side pocket. He clutched at it for dear life, forcing himself to keep together. "You need to go to him,"

"No!" she fought him. "This is the most ridiculous thing in the world!" her chest hurt with each breath that she took. This was all too familiar. "We – we're perfect for each other! You said it yourself over coffee and chocolate glazed donuts!" she shook her head, running her shaking fingers through her mane of dark hair. "We don't even fight!"

He chuckled a cynical laugh. "Maybe that's the problem. Maybe we don't have enough between us to fight about,"

"You're making zero sense," She made her way to him and ripped the paper from his eternally gripped hands. "This!" she held it before him. In an instant, she pulled at the sides, ripping it repetitively into little confetti pieces. "This means nothing!"

"Stop lying!" he raised his voice for the first time. "Stop! Just stop, Neela! Can't you see that I'm trying to do the right thing?" He ran his hand over his face for the umpteenth time. Kneeling before her, he cupped her trembling face. "Throw out all of the outside things, even though we get along perfectly, even though we've gotten through hell and high water together, even though none of it makes sense…We can't be together if you don't believe that I'm the one for you,"

She cast her eyes down, too embarrassed and ashamed to meet his. Her shoulders slumped and in an exasperated exhale, she negatively shook her head. "No," her small voice answered.

I know that you're like this not because you're weak. You just don't want to disappoint people. I understand. You're a good person, darling," he whispered. "You're a beautiful, good person,"

"Then why is this happening?" she whimpered. "I'm telling you that I want to be with you. Why isn't that enough?"

"You know…" he shook his head, staring out of their huge bay windows. "I thought about that too. I thought about the fact that you're with me now and nothing else matters. But I can't shake off this feeling…this fear that if things were different. If circumstances were _different_,"

"What? What are you talking about?" she squinted her eyes in question. "What do you mean circumstances?"

"I would choose you over and over and over again above anyone else, any day of my life. I would. But what I'm not sure of is if the same would go for you. If things were different…if he was still at County, would you choose me?"

"I don't know what you're saying. Circumstances are what they are! That's why we're together," she shook her head.

"No," he shrugged, "Love transcends everything, no matter what situations we're in,"

She shut her eyes. "Stop it! Stop trying to put words in my mouth! Stop making this such a big deal! We're engaged! My god, we're _engaged! _Stop making these decisions for me! Who the hell are you to make these decisions for me?!"

He nodded, licking his lips. "You're right," slowly, he reached into his pant pocket, pulling out a small box.

"Oh God," she cried, rolling her eyes, seeing the signature blue, laced with a white ribbon. _What a perfect time_.

He sniffed in quickly, forcing a smile. "I got this last weekend. I slipped away when we were shopping on Michigan. I wanted to give it to you tonight," She nodded. He took her hand, opening it. "But you're right. This isn't a decision that _I'm_ supposed to make,"

"Simon-"

He shook his head, quieting her. "This is yours," with a deep breath, flat lined a grin. "If you love me, if you would choose me over everyone, any day. With you, I finally found someone who forced me to question the way I was living my life, and with such came the realization that my choices were both frightening and confusing. You changed me. That's why I want to be with you forever, because you've made me into a better person and with you…I'm the happiest, best version of me that there is. And that's how it's supposed to be when you want to marry someone," he swallowed, tilting his head to the side, "So if you feel the same way about me… Then take this, please," She couldn't bear the look at him. She already knew what his eyes would do to her. "But if you love someone else…and can _picture_ yourself with someone else, if someone else makes you feel _this_ way about yourself…then don't,"

"Please," her voice broke. "We're already engaged. We have this house. We…"

He leaned forward and kissed her hands lingeringly. "The house is just money," he shrugged through crinkled eyes. He moved to stand. "I'm going to go,"

"Please don't do this," she pled through threatening tears. "This is just a big misunderstanding,"

Simon stood at the doorway, his hands shoved deeply into his pockets. She couldn't even look him in the eye, she was so ashamed. He had successfully seen through her, something she was now realized she was terribly afraid of. Raising her eyes, she saw the worn look on his face, the tiredness in his once bright eyes, the sunken hurt in his normally broad shoulders.

And she had caused all of it.

"Hopefully, you'll still be here when I return," he nodded his head, turning on his heel, he stopped before leaving. Without facing her, she heard his voice break. "I love you, Neela. No matter what…I love you,"

She silently sat there, listening as the door shut behind her. She didn't know what to think, what to feel. Neela only knew that she was in pain. She fingered the ring box in her hands, too afraid to open it for fear of seeing, what she knew, was the most beautiful ring money could purchase. Her heart broke as she stared about her.

It was so close.

She was so close to having it all.

But Neela just could not let go.

Shutting her eyes, she mumbled a silent prayer of forgiveness. Grabbing the boxing tape from the hearth, Neela fell to her knees piecing together the scattered paper. All of the emotions that should have elicited those poignant responses earlier in her day flooded out of her at once, like a deluge of pouring precipitation. And for the first time that day, Neela wept like she had never wept before.

-- er --

It was far passed midnight when Simon anxiously returned to the house. The lights were still on as he walked through his home.

He knew that he would lament it all. He knew that a part him had left. He knew that one way or another, he would never get over this. But Simon didn't do it to be a martyr. He did it because he was stupid enough to love a woman whose heart was already fully occupied.

And so as he sat in the empty house, that seemed far too large now, he slumped over on the packing cube, holding the unopened Tiffany's box, trying his best not to regret doing the right thing.

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Note: I apologize for my total lack of updates! I hope that this chapter wasn't way to jumbled to read. I love you all! and thanks so so so much for sticking with me.


	16. Chapter 16

**Title: The Hours Home**

**Author: BelleG08**

**Summary: You. You have taken all of me without giving any back. You have broken me down to nothing and yet you have shown me what it is to be alive. Ray/Neela/Simon**

**Note: Wow, i don't think i've ever gone so long without updating. my sincerest apologies, my loves! Thank you all so much for putting up with me and my negligence!**

**-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

**Chapter 16**

_"There is one pain I often feel, which you will never know. It is caused by the absence of you." - Anonymous_

Neela wasn't much of a driver. In all truthfulness, she was invariably craptastic at it. Sure, she had a five year old Saturn that, up until the day prior, had merely been taking up money and space in a communal garage down the street, but that poor little car never got any love. She would much rather take the El, or walk or something, anything other than sitting behind the wheel.

Until that day

She never fully understood what people meant when they said that driving was therapeutic. How on earth could it be so calming whence there were so many different factors to think of? There was the depth between vehicles, maintaining a certain speed, centripetal force, height, signals and blinkers, incessantly alarming honks. She couldn't even bring herself to turn on the damn radio, not to mention the fact that she learned to drive almost a decade and a half ago, on the other side of the road to boot.

But there she was, driving down South I-55, going to God knows where.

She gripped the wheel so tightly, causing her normally caramel knuckles to turn a stark yellowish-white. Her straight teeth gritted in an anticipating grind, and her bloodshot eyes blinked against the dare of a new morning. A blue sign caught her attention amidst the miles and miles of endless foliage. Mississippi was greeting her a good morning.

So did her rumbling stomach.

Following the upcoming interstate signs, Neela quickly found the universal fast food joint, beckoning the young surgeon with greasy sustenance, or at least some hot caffeine.

"A large black coffee please," Neela spoke quietly into the drive-thru speaker. She only then realized that the words were the first she was to utter since the nightmare that was last night. Sitting back and waiting for her drink, she shut her eyes, wondering how it was that she actually got there.

With a quick phone call last night, she had informed her favorite redheaded doctor that things had gone terribly awry. In no less than ten minutes, he had shown up at the house. Following her instructions, he proceeded to move her belongings back to her old apartment. And after he asked what she was planning to do, Neela could only shrug, staring up at the night sky and utter something along the lines of "what she was supposed to do a long time ago." It started with a simple right turn onto West Willow Street, and then a left onto North Sheffield, later on it was a merge onto I-94, and in no less than ten minutes later, Neela found herself driving south on I-57. She spoke nothing, only staring at the concrete directions given to her by her faithful GPS phone. She chuckled, thinking back on what an enemy and an ally her iphone had proven to be.

It must have been a surge of endorphins that released after her smackdown with her now, ex-fiancé. Or maybe it was a psychological phenomena, causing her to do things she never would have done before. Whatever it was, last night Neela found herself faced with a scary reality, the path to where her life was leading: and she found it both unwanted and wrong. How ironic was it that it was _he, _her fiancé, who had pointed it out to her, he who showed her the way? It was not that she didn't love Simon Brenner. Neela just didn't love him like Ray.

And so in the middle of the night, she left. With nothing but the blue scrubs on her back, Neela drove to Baton Rouge.

She rubbed her eyes, behind her tortoise-shell sunglasses, suddenly damning her impulses and wishing she had just driven her car to O'Hare and bought a damn ticket rather than driving her whole way down to Louisiana. The gas alone would have surely made up the difference. Hours later, she stared at her empty coffee cup, rolling her eyes for not investing in a pack of gum. But no, she refused to stop now, she told herself as she glanced through the window. The bright morning light glimmered against the soft waves of Lake Ponchartrain. To her right was the seemingly ocean-like body of water and to her left, an old set of train tracks, suspended above the lake. She shuddered.

Driving over open water was another fear of hers.

Shaking off the jitters, she willed herself to go on. After almost thirteen and a half hours of straight driving, save for a petrol pump and coffee boost, Neela would be damned if she stopped now.

She was sure that she wasn't thinking, that a coherent thought was the farthest thing from her normally thorough mind. Neela exhaled quite loudly to no one in particular, knowing that her lack of thought was a defense mechanism against her own sanity. If she really thought hard about this, she was sure that there were other ways of doing it…more plausible, responsible ways of doing it.

Thirty Miles to Baton Rouge. The sign read at her right. A shiver ran through her spine.

She could have started with calling Ray.

But no, along with her impending marriage, reason had also flown out of the window the second she stepped away from her almost life.

Neela silently watched as the numbers get smaller and smaller, passing by new truck stations, the occasional neutral ground crosses, shopping outlets and one huge _Cabello's_ shop that seemed far too large to do any type of real good. And finally the numbers went away and she found herself driving into her old roommate's infamous hometown, the city that became the very symbol of the huge problem that was she and Ray. She quickly glanced at her phone, searching for more intricate directions. Her heart caught in her seeing her exit ahead.

In less than seven minutes, Neela found herself driving down, what she hoped to be, River Road. Along her left was the levee, this large, manmade barrier type that held back the Mississippi river. She could see runners along the top, and inwardly wondered if that was where Ray was, if she could pick him out. Neela even found herself squinting to see. That quickly stopped once many a honking horn was heard behind her. At least there were still defensive drivers to keep her in check. Her car slowly came to a corner, a stop to where her GPS told her to take a left. The area was nice, a little different from the rest of what she had seen. It seemed like a sort of shopping area, a mini-city of its sorts. Taking a turn, she slowed down in the small, surrounded, mini-town, noting the bookstore, a gym, and little boutiques. There was a bakery and a large fountain area. The residential part was built above the shops. She gave a small nod of approval, it was like a very clean, very friendly Chicago. Her smile faltered as she saw a cupcake shoppe at the end of the turn. Squaring her shoulders, she found a place to parallel park.

"Oh God," she almost vomited. It was now or never. Pulling herself from the driver's seat, she stood on the sidewalk, staring up at the tall building before her.

Brave.

It was what she was supposed to be right then.

Not what she actually was. Her insides shook with trepidation, yelling at her from different angles. She was always one to fall for anxiety, but at that moment in time, she could nearly empathize with those psych patients she used to send for holds. She gripped the worn piece of paper in her fisted hand, feeling the smooth scotch tape patches as it rubbed against her palms.

_Gods_. She was going to be sick.

"Well, Rasgotra, too late to turn back now," Squaring her shoulders, she made her way into the building. All too quickly finding herself before the industrial looking door, she sighed. Ritualistically, Neela checked and rechecked the address in her phone. In an almost obsessive-compulsive fashion, she moved to knock on the door, followed by quickly retracting her small hand. She would then hover her finger above doorbell, only to chicken out again. "Bollocks," she muttered. "I drive for almost fifteen hours, and I can't ring a damn bell?"

She had full intention of actually following through this time, had the door not opened right then.

"Neela?"

She could not have feigned a more surprised look on her face, even if she had planned it.

"Brett?"

Her dark eyebrows furrowed in curious fury, ignoring the more than surprised man before her and, yet again, checking her phone. She surely must have made a mistake.

"I…Do you live with him?" she quickly questioned, not even looking at Brett. The last time she saw him, she was dripping with bathwater and tears outside of her overpriced hotel room, hundreds of miles away. "I have this as his address,"

"It is – was…Neela, it's…it's good to see you," he tried to interrupt her.

"Is he here?" she deliberately avoided his gaze, seemingly deaf to his slip of tongue, and moved to crane her neck, attempting to look in the apartment.

"No…Neela,"

"Is he at work then?" she blinked repeatedly, pivoting to point behind her. "Could you just give me the directions to his work? I'm sorry for bothering you,"

"Neela,"

She shut her eyes. "I'm not trying to be rude, Brett. It's a pleasure seeing you and I'm really hoping that I'll be seeing you more. But this is incredibly important. Please, just show me where Ray is and you can be on your way,"

"Neela." he repeated her name, more sternly, loudly, for the millionth time.

This caused the flustered woman snapped back quickly, finally opening her eyes to the man in front of her.

The look in his light eyes betrayed all.

She did not speak a word, afraid of what he had to say to her.

"He's not here,"

She forced a small smile. "I know…I know, you told me. Just let me know where he is. My car is out front; I can drive there,"

Creasing his forehead in sadness, Brett shook his head. He placed a friendly hand on her shoulder. "Ray's not working in Baton rouge anymore,"

-- er --

It was all for naught.

Her heart pounded in her chest, underneath her cotton scrubs, hard enough for her skin to reverberate the beat. She consciously had to force her lungs to make an oxygen exchange. And as if training herself to breath was not difficult enough, Neela all together felt like she was about to die.

"What do you mean?" her voice wavered. "What do you mean he's not working here anymore?"

Brett's breaking eyes shamed away from the woman's searching orbs. He wondered if it were physically possible for a person's eyes to shatter, because that's certainly what hers seemed to do. "I…" he took a deep breath, running an apologetic hand through his bruin hair. "He transferred hospitals,"

"Oh," was all she could utter. Her face flamed in embarrassment. "He didn't tell me," Neela quickly shook her head, forcing any coherent notions from her lost mind. "I'm sorry," she muttered under her breath. In an instant she stumbled backwards into the hallway, hugging her arms close to her body. "I'm sorry, but do you think you could tell me where? Brett, I drove through the night to get here. A few more hours won't hurt me,"

Something that strikingly resembled remorse filled the man's eyes, causing Neela's insides to flip. "I can't," he whispered.

"What do you mean '_you can't_'?" she seemed to accuse. "You can't tell me where he is?" Brett opened his mouth to solemnly speak just as realization dawned upon the young surgeon. "You're not _allowed_ to tell me,"

It was now his turn to apologize: apologize for the crappy timing, apologize for her unreciprocated work, apologize for the douche bag that was his best friend. "I'm sorry,"

"No," she snapped, not out of anger, but because she knew no way else to react. "No this…this isn't your fault,"

"Why don't you come inside," he ushered, opening his door wider. Neela shut her eyes quickly, not wanting to see the apartment that once belonged to Ray.

Her voice fell to a low, almost silent, raspy whisper, "I need to go,"

And so she ran.

She ran down the hall, foregoing the elevator and sprinted down the stairs. She ran past the lobby entrance. She ran through the industrial doors. She ran down the sidewalk. She ran until she could run no more. Her chest heaved up and down, as she brought her journey to a halt on the curb before her worn automobile.

And that's where she collapsed.

In a heap of tears, Neela fell to the sidewalk, weeping incessantly into her arms. She must have looked a fright, a young woman, bawling her visceral regions out through her lachrymal glands. She cried.

She cried as though her insides were breaking, as though it would never cease. She cried for a fun loving boy who had grown into a very angry man. She cried for the little girl whose life, once full of responsibilities and dreams and hopes, now failed the day. She cried for the friendship, once so close, so fragile yet strong, that now surmounted to nothing but burnt ruins at her own hands.

Neela cried at her own failure of it all.

"Neela," she felt a hand touch her shaking shoulder.

"Go away, Brett," she shamefully spoke.

"I'm sorry. You know…"

"He doesn't want me to know where he is," her voice was still and sullen. "He didn't tell me he was leaving. And he _ordered_ you to _not_ tell me. I think that pretty much says it all,"

Brett pursed his lips before looking skyward. With a shrug, he exhaled. "He was broken, Neela. He was just broken. It wasn't like when he came back here for the first time. It wasn't like that. He was just…he wasn't Ray anymore,"

"_I_…broke him," her lip quivered. "It was me…I did this,"

"He was _immature_," Brett stressed, placing an anxious hand on her fleece-covered tan arm. "He was immature and he got tired of fighting,"

She shrugged in defeat. "You know what? I don't blame him,"

"Please," Brett sadistically chuckled, "Please don't put him up on a pedestal like that. You and I both know that what went down between the two of you could have been completely controlled," He squinted, dusting some soot from his shiny work loafers. "You deserve to be happy,"

Neela snorted. "At what price, Brett?" her voice rose. "I. Am. Destructive," she instinctively squeezed her fist. "Everything, everyone I come into contact with, I hurt. I stomp on in my warpath to _God Knows Where_,"

"Don't blame yourself for this,"

"Why shouldn't I?" she almost yelled. A few passersby turned to see the young couple in verbal battle. "This is all _my_ fault. Why shouldn't I blame myself?"

"Because it isn't!"

"This is my problem," she motioned between the two of them, "I am always allowed the victim card. I am always the one who gets her hand held when she screws _everything_ up. I never am the one who gets to stand up and take the fall for making _everyone else_ fall back on their arses," her companion's brows furrowed. For the first time, she turned to face him, her eyes muddled with layers and layers of fresh falling tears. "Do you know that I was engaged?"

"No…"

"Well, I suppose you wouldn't have," She clenched her jaw set, nodding her head as the tears dropped from her jaw line. "I was engaged to a beautiful man, a wonderful human being who took me, flawed and all…Who all he wanted was for me to wake up in the morning and he would have taken care of _everything_ else. That's the kind of man I was engaged to," Her face twisted to a sullen sneer. "And I left him because I wanted someone else, because I still wanted Ray,"

Brett was rendered speechless. What could one say to that?

"What kind of individual does that to a person? What kind of human being leaves someone who's done nothing but love me for someone who's _never ever_ worked out?" she threw her hands in the humid, southern air. "_I_ do! I'm that person. I'm that person who can't just be happy with what she has! That's the whole reason I'm here! I'm here because I was too late. And I ruined yet another relationship and another chance…I ruined it because I know nothing else,"

"Stop it!" It was Brett's turn to yell. "Stop doing this! Stop it, Neela," he shook her. "Stop blaming yourself for Ray's inability to take a good thing! Break it all down and that's what it is. You say _you_ were scared? _You_ were the one who couldn't do things right? Okay…fine, take that grievance. But you two are where you're at because you _both_ made decisions to be here," Her mahogany brows curiously folded in confused frustration. "It takes _two_ people to fuck something like this up, Neela. And as far as I'm concerned, _You_ are the only one who's taken any responsibility,"

"Ray's _your_ friend,"

He nodded widely. "And that's why I can easily say that he's a jackass,"

Well…she did not expect that.

"Please, don't try to sugar coat for my feelings," she sternly suggested, "As much as I would like to just say that Ray was a jackass, Brett, the truth is the truth. _I'm_ the reason why I'm here and he isn't,"

He squinted in frustration, pinching the bridge of his nose. "It's not your fault that you weren't ready back then, that things were not right at that point. It's not your fault that things weren't as copacetic as Ray wanted them to be last February. And likewise, it isn't his fault that you moved on as you did. It's not his fault that you were married, or – or that you weren't in the right place to be with him so many years ago,"

"Brett-"

"Neela, you're not the one at fault for him being him, okay? He's Ray. He gets angry at the drop of a pin. He gets drunk. He gets on one point and stays there till he's blue in the face. That's not your fault, alright?"

She shook her shoulders, her salty tears unceasing. "That's all nice, Brett. But it doesn't change things, does it?"

No, it did not change things, nor did it make her feel an ounce better. And as she sat with him, silently watching the Baton Rouge life thrive about them, Neela could do nothing but wallow in self-pity. Her companion rubbed pseudo-soothing circles on her lower back, trying his best to alleviate any sort that he could. But no avail – it was as if her insides had fallen out and no amounts of surgery could do anything to fix it.

"How," she finally breathed after what seemed like an eternity of silence, "How did it come to this?"

"I don't know," he whispered back.

"I want _him_," she sobbed, "I want _Ray_. I just want things to go back to him. I want to be twenty-eight again and live in his dingy apartment, cleaning up his drunken messes and doing his laundry. I want to go back to the roof and let him take care of me instead of pushing him away…I want…I…"

And suddenly, like a tidal wave, absolute realization washed over her. She, Neela Rasgotra – level-headed worry-wart extraordinaire, had driven for over fifteen hours, across numerous states, leaving behind her fiancé and home, to reconcile with a man who now wanted nothing to do with her. She had no idea where he was, what he was doing, whom he was with, what he felt. And now she never would. And like a second wind, a feeling of utter abandonment and loss began its decent.

Losing her bearings again, she doubled over, feeling the morning's coffee about to make reappearance. "What do I do now?"

Brett quickly wrapped his arm around her small shoulders, pulling her upright with him. "You need to make yourself happy, Neela. For _you_, for _Neela_…for no one else," he cupped her face gently, "Do something that will make you a better person,"

She hiccupped over her own tears. "I thought that was what I was doing already,"

He shook his head, "Give yourself for someone who deserves it," he exhaled heavily, squeezing her shoulders. They were silent for a long while, well as silent as a weeping girl and her sorry companion could be. Empathetic passersby could only smile in somber pity. He would force a small grin, attempting his damndest to calm her down. Feeling her hiccups begin to recede, he tried to take a different approach, "Are you hungry?"

"Oh, no," she rubbed her screaming belly. "I don't think I can eat right now," Running a shaky hand through her burgundy locks. With a deep breath, she answered,"I think I'm just going to go,"

Alarm crossed the young man's face instantly, watching as she wiped her hands on her dirty scrubs, preparing to walk back to her car. "Look, do you want to stay for awhile? I don't think you should be driving,"

"No," she quickly shook her head. The mere thought of stepping foot into Ray's old apartment made her sick. "I should go,"

"No, you don't have to," he reasoned. "I'm sure that's not a good idea,"

With a resolute breath, she straightened her shoulders, wiping away her fresh tears. "Nothing I'm feeling will get better anytime soon. So prolonging the inevitable will just make things hurt more," she nodded, "I just need to get back to my life,"

"Can I do anything?"

For the first time that day, Brett saw Neela smile. Albeit, definitely forced, it was still a smile. "Oddly enough, I think you've helped me," stepping forward, she grabbed his calloused hands, worn and abraded from years of guitar playing and life-living. She grinned through falling tears, "This, I think, is what I need to move on, finally. Maybe, maybe I just needed Ray to fully and completely cut off anything between us for me to go on properly," she patted his hands, "So thank you…thank you for keeping your word to him, and thank you for helping me see that it's done,"

In a somber stroll, Brett walked her to the maroon sedan at the corner. His heart lurched for her, seeing the defeated slump of her shoulders as she fell to the driver's seat. Never in his entire life had Brett Lebeouf witnessed such a loss of light, a loss of happiness from one individual. He had never seen death before, but Brett was sure that that's what this woman was was. Yet there she was, in all her glory, a very lost and trounced Neela.

He leaned forward, one hand shoved into his slacks pocket and the other resting on the already expired meter. His eyes danced in solemn amusement as he watched the young woman reach out of the car, tossing a crumpled piece of paper into the nearby trashcan. "Are you going to be okay?"

Staring up at him with eyes not quite believing, she nodded her head. "One day," she shook her head, as if pushing out all negative thoughts and continued to plaster on a smile, "I will be, soon. Closure…it's just, it's closure,"

With a swift flick of the elbow, he shut her car door, resting his forearms on her window. "Just…do yourself a favor,"

"Yeah?"

"Don't go back to Russell Crowe just because you're sad,"

She squinted her dark eyes in perplexed bewilderment. "I'm sorry?"

He chuckled. "If you decide to go back to your fiancé, do it because it's what you _really_ want and not because you're lonely," Her face grew to a sobering smile, not quite reaching her eyes. "And don't be a stranger,"

"Well you give me a call if you ever come back to Chicago. I'll owe you,"

After another trip for expensive gasoline, Neela finally found herself driving back, much earlier than she had initially anticipated. How confused she felt! It was like this cocktail to pain and anger and loss and contentment all flooding her insides at once. Cursedly falling into mid-morning traffic, she growled. What a mess she had made. What a messy mess it all was.

And it figured. The one time she actually manned up and did the right thing, Ray goes and abandons his post on the other side.

Damn him.

Damn him for leaving without telling her, for screwing with her mind, for rejecting her when things got rough. Damn him for jumping to conclusions at Abby's wedding, for running away and getting drunk, for telling her exactly what she deserved in that awfully pale hospital room. Damn him for kissing her in the snow and for waiting and waiting and waiting when she just tossed his heart to the side. Damn him for wanting to be there for her when she needed him most. Damn him for being such a good friend to her. Damn him for asking her to move in with him. Damn him for being him.

"Ugh!" she yelled. "I hate you!"

A sudden slur of horn honks pulled her from her wallowing reverie. She raised her hands apologetically for failing to yield. Her heart slammed into its pericardial sac, beating miles and miles a minute. She haphazardly pulled her hair into a bun at the base of her neck, needing desperately to have any sense of organization in her moments of chaos.

With a resolute huff, she picked up the frenemy that was her phone. With the steadiest hand she'd ever moved, Neela swiftly found the familiar number. After four rings, it went to his newly generic voicemail.

Evening her voice, the young attending spoke her peace. "You listen and you listen to me well, Ray Barnett," she huffed. "Screw you. Screw you for everything and anything. Screw you for being such an immature piece of bio-hazardous waste. Screw you for not learning how to wait around and be patient. Screw you for not _growing up_ like you were supposed to!" Neela yelled into the receiver, "You make me sick, you know that? You make me sick because yet again, I have ruined another relationship in _your_ name! Because of you, I have nothing. So I hope that you're happy. That's what you wanted right? You want me to be as unhappy and miserable and _alone_ as you? Congratulations, I'm there," she pursed her lips, squinting her eyes dangerously. "But don't you worry your hair-product-ridden head of yours one bit, because I will bounce back. I do not need to move away to make a statement, No. I will bounce back and I will be happy _without_ you! I will do it and you will be sorry," She shook with rage. "You thank your lucky stars that that friend of yours upheld his word and didn't tell me where you're hiding, you coward. Not that I would even waste my time to go there…but you get what I mean, Jesus Christ! You know I may be the fool right now, having acted in chaotic mistake, relying on my amygdala, my limbic system, like some emotional teenager…but it's _you_ I'm feeling sorry for. It's you who's lost out on something amazing," she yelled in frustration. She was rambling now, god she hated her rambling. "This…This will be the last time you _ever_ hear from me. Just know what kind of good thing you ran away from. Just know that I was right for you and you just _ruined_ it. So that's it," She jut out a defiant lip, "Good bye, Ray," Raising her hand, she prepared to chuck the phone, before she brought it to her mouth again, "Oh and if this isn't Ray Barnett's phone anymore, my sincerest apologies," And with that final disclaimer, Neela hurled the cell phone into her backseat, pressured the gas, and drove home to Chicago.

-- er --

Brett's hand twitched in curiosity, watching her maroon car drive into the distance. His fingers hovered over the waste can, eyeing the item she had so purposefully dispensed in the public trash. Falling to his own nosiness, he shoved his hand in, producing a crumpled piece of stationary.

His eyebrows furrowed in interest, running his fingers along the paper. Her writing was scribbled coherently, dotted with water marks which he could only assume were tears, and intermittent shiny pieces of tape, obviously mending a series of patterned tears and rips. It was worn with various creases, an old letter.

Ignoring the shiver that caused goosebumps up his arms and down his spine, he fell to seat to where they previously were. And in the late very late december weather, on the last day of the year, he read her letter.

_April 17, 2009_

_Dear Ray,_

_I know it's been awhile since you've heard from me, and I know I may be the last person that you want to hear from, but I feel like you're the only person in the world I want to talk to. I'm too much of a coward to pick up the phone like a normal person, so I've done the next best thing and have written you a letter. _

_Today, I performed an appy on this nineteen-year-old boy. He had just gotten in for spring break and in the middle of a concert, he doubled over. Good thing his mates were there to get him, brought him in right away and we worked quickly before his appendix had a chance to burst. The second he woke up, he turned this bright shade of red and muttered something along the lines of, "God…this is so not rock and roll," And I couldn't help but laugh my butt off. It just seemed like such a line that would emit from your mouth. _

_Morris is getting married next month. I'm not sure if you'll be there. He said that he invited you, but didn't receive an RSVP yet. You should meet Claudia, she's wonderful – the kind of woman who's just anything and everything for him, the only woman who could put up with his antics. I'm so happy for them. Everything seems to be falling into place for Archie. There are no better deserving people. _

_If it seems like I'm rambling, I am. I guess it's just a preamble to what I really wanted to say. I don't know if I'm just being a lovesick puppy, or just a self-righteous woman who cannot be deterred, but for some reason, I just cannot get you out of my head. I've been doing a good job, as of late, of keeping my mind on my work. But I just cannot shake you off right now. I'm lost. I feel so lost. It's different, you know? You and I have gone months and months without speaking before, but now, it just feels like there's no hope. And that's the worst feeling possible. _

_Have you ever had a moment in your life that you just know, given the chance, you would have done it completely differently? Well looking back, there are so many moments that I could have changed, so many chances in our chaotic relationship that I could have used to favorably turn our situation. But I was too, well, too cowardly to do anything about it. And you were so good to me then. You treated me like I was the greatest thing in the world, like I was something worth waiting for. And what did I do? I just stomped on you. And by the time I got around to understanding what I felt, it was too late. Oh Ray, I just wish that I could do everything differently. If I could go back, I would do it all differently from the beginning. But of course hindsight is always clearest right? _

_Those three days in New York, however terribly they ended, are still emblazoned in my mind like nothing else. They are still the three best days of my life. I've never felt so liberated and light and so without a care in the world as I've felt when I was with you. You made me feel like I could do anything, like I possessed the type of courage that I'd always desired. Ray, you just showed me what it was like to really love someone. And I miss that. But mostly, I miss you. I miss seeing your devilish grin and the way you shove your hands in your pockets, making your shoulders touch your ears. I miss the way you stutter when you get overly excited, and the way you smirk when you know you're going to get your way. I miss how your eyes change from a hazel brown to a stunning green when you become passionate about something. I miss everything about you. _

_I miss everything about you because I love everything about you. _

_I wonder sometimes how I'm able to go on without seeing your face every morning or every night, how I was dumbly able to deny you for so long. And it terrifies me to no return, the rational and irrational fear that I've lost all chance at happiness with you. But now I'm just being selfish, I guess. I know that I've hurt you tremendously and that you've most probably moved on from whatever it is that you and I had. And I don't blame you for doing so. _

_So what's the point of this letter, you ask? I don't really know, honestly. I think I may just need to get it all off of my chest. If I could get on my knees before you and beg for some sort of reconciliation, you best believe that I would. But I don't know. The truth is that even if you could accept me as a friend, if that's even possible, I would be happy. I need to know that you and I will be alright – that you and I will somehow find a way to have some sort of relationship. Even if it's not romantic, I can be a big girl – just a way to be in your life and for you to be in mine. Even through written correspondence, emails, chatting – even if you never want to see me again. I just need you as a friend again, however possible. I'll take it. It's because I need you, Ray. I've always needed you and I will always need you. _

_The naked truth in all of this, Ray is that You. You have taken all of me without giving any back. You have broken me down to nothing, and yet, you have shown me what it is to be alive. _

_And for that, I'll always be grateful…And I will most certainly always love you. _

_Forever your Roomie, and Always Yours, _

_Neela_


	17. Chapter 17

**Title: The Hours Home**

**Author: BelleG08**

**Summary: You. You have taken all of me without giving any back. You have broken me down to nothing and yet you have shown me what it is to be alive. Ray/Neela/Simon**

**-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

**Chapter 17**

"No, Archie," she sullenly pointed a tan finger in his pale face. "Hope is merely the denial of reality,"

"I'm not saying-"

"I didn't call you to meet me a hundred miles outside of the city to hear your philosophical mumbo jumbo. I called you just in case I got too pissed to drive myself home,"

He raised a fiery brow. "You haven't drank anything,"

She shut her eyes at his truth. Maybe she just didn't want to be alone. Methodically, Neela rubbed her temples counterclockwise seven times before going clockwise another six times. The pounding between her eyes was killer.

"Are you alright?" her once colleague's voice sounded, echoing his superb bedside manner.

"Yes," she hissed. She keeps on saying that, but he's fairly certain that she's lying.

"Neela-"

"_Morris_," she stressed, moving to pinch the bridge of her nose. "I really am ok. I'm shocked and exhausted, yes, but I'm going to be fine. I'm a big girl," As if trying to convince him, she took a deep breath and squared her slumped shoulders. "Really,"

He pitied her. Oh how he pitied his friend of six plus years. Such a contrast had occurred in just her physical appearance over the last twenty-four hours. Her face, vibrant and flushed with passion that night before now look sallow and gaunt with defeat. Her still surgeon hands, once firm with conviction and fervor now shook with doubt of self. His friend, his spitfire Neela was now reduced to a feeble little girl, huddling in a booth of a random diner outside of Chicago.

"What are you going to do now?" he questioned, gripping his now lukewarm coffee.

She shrugged, planting a thin ghost of a smile on her dark lips. "Move on,"

"Can you?"

Her head teetered on its axis, feigning a nod. "Yeah,"

"Can I do anything?"

She shut her eyes, shaking her head from side to side. "I think it's something I need to do on my own, Archie. I got my closure. Now I just need a new beginning."

-- er --

So this was it. This was what the poets raved about. This was the pain, the hollowness, the pure emptiness that they thrived upon.

And Neela had to admit, vast amounts of voice mail-shit-talking notwithstanding, it was just as crappy as she expected it to be.

It took a good hour to convince Morris that she was alright enough to go home on her own. But as she sat behind the wheel some time later, she almost wished she would have accepted his offer and stayed the night with him and Claudia. But it was that damn self righteousness again, that damn self righteousness that clouded her vision and better judgment, that damn self righteousness that caused her to forget that she had no home anymore.

Where was she to go? She definitely couldn't go to the home that she and Simon had just closed on. Although, somewhere in between Mississippi and Missouri, she shamefully entertained the thought of running back to him with armfuls of apologies and false platitudes; her conscience swayed her otherwise. As hurt as she was, she was not hurt enough to ruin someone else's life any more than she already had.

And then there was the small little detail that she no longer held lease at her former home, although she was sure that unwelcomed boxes of her belongings popped back up at her old apartment, thanks to Archie Morris. Gods, her super was going to have her neck. But as she turned the corner to see her building, she decided to take her chances. At one o'clock in the morning, she was sure that she could bum a night in.

It was freezing outside, that much was for sure, as she cursed her way to the side entrance to the building. And unfortunately enough, she found out quite by nasty accident that it was snowing too. A string of expletives that would make a Scottish sailor proud emitted her shivering mouth as she slipped on a patch of ice, shooting a pain through her bum up her back and down to her feet. But not even the promise of a bruise from ankle to ass cheek the next day could distract from the ungodly sting of her broken heart.

Pulling herself up the side stairs, Neela thankfully made it to the second floor. She counted three doors down and finally found herself before apartment _2C_.

And then she stopped.

Neela found herself numb, unable to move for a mere moment as the previous day began to hurl its ugly self head first into her middle. She physically felt sick while staring at her brown door. What was she waiting for? More importantly, what was waiting for her?

Nothing.

That was the simple answer she had. There was nothing waiting for her behind those doors, back at County General, in Baton Rouge, down on North Freemont. She had left them all behind at one point or another leaving her on her own.

And so she turned on her heel and deftly made her way back to the stairwell, passing up the third and fourth and fifth floors and silently making it up to the roof. It was as far away as she could get at that point without wasting copious amounts of money on gas that in essence was completely unneeded. Sure, just taking the extra five seconds to turn the lock to get into her apartment so that she could pass out and not have to live consciously for at least three hours would have been the better thing to do. But once a coward, always a coward. Neela just needed to run somewhere, anywhere.

She held her fleece coat close to her core, clutching her tiny fingers into a tightening fist around the frigid Chicagoan air. Her eyes squinted against the frozen precipitation, halting its descent about her unwashed hair and shivering shoulders. The night would have been utterly beautiful if it weren't such an ass-kicking disaster.

Her gaze moved across the windy city skyline, noting all of the places she had not seen or been to during her seven years in the metropolitan area. There were many of them, and even more so – many places she had been to, many places that held memories, memories that caused her to curse her damn photographic memory. Because it was until such a moment, beyond a shadow of a doubt that she knew it could not get any worse – the pain, the torture, the humiliation and defeat – but in flooded the _memories_, the damn _memories_ – and with such memories came the inevitable plummet to the dark depths she never thought she could reach. Not when her husband died, not when she had a crisis of self and career, not even when Ray had been in the hospital. For now there was no hope left, nothing, not a flicker of future, leaving her with nothing but gut-wrenching, knife-twisting, photographically correct memories.

_**September 2005**_

_She stopped outside of the fiberglass doors, her fingers running along the four daunting letters printed across the clear portal. With a deep breath and faux sense of bravery, she pressed the button and made her way in. And there she saw him in the far corner, clad in green scrubs and haphazard hair. Holding her breath, she quietly made her way to him. _

_She knew that he could sense her silent presence; he was always good at being fully sentient. But she said nothing and neither did he for endless moments. They just silently stood there, watching over the poorest, most helpless baby Neela had ever seen. With the undying need to end the retching silence, she finally spoke. _

"_I hate the NICU," she whispered truthfully. _

_His shoulders shook with a somber chuckle. "Me too," _

_And there it was again, the deafening sound of nothing but automated breaths and electric heartbeats. She couldn't even bring herself to look around. She really did hate the Neonatal Intensive Care Unit. It was probably the saddest wing of the entire hospital, probably in all of Chicago. These patients were the most helpless in the entire city. And standing there just made her want to cry. _

_His voice took her out of her own misery suddenly. "They left him," _

"_Who?" _

"_Everyone," his voice cracked. She watched in unvoiced surprise as his calloused fingers ever so gently caressed the baby's protruding belly. _

_Biting down on her lip for support, she stepped forward, resting her hand against the incubator. If it was possible for her heart to break into even more pieces, it did as her eyes rested on the tiny being, not even big enough to fill half of the warmer. "Have you named him?" _

"_What?" she saw his brown brows furrow without turning to her. _

"_Um," she cleared her throat, "That's what they do here. They name the babies, like nick names, normally something strong, or with a derivative coming from strength or something like it – just something to give them any sort of symbolic help," _

_His pouting lips moved to a thin line as he continued to rub soothing circles on the child. "David," he choked out. "His parents were going to name him David…before they left," _

_She hurriedly ambled to the station in the middle, and grabbed a pen and card. Returning to them, she expertly wrote the name 'David' on the blue cardstock. "It doesn't quite mean 'strong'-"_

"_Beloved," he cut her off, "I think it means 'Beloved'," _

_She nodded, placing the card in the slip on the warmer. "Then it's a perfect name." She watched as he went back to his almost catatonic vigil at the baby's side. After much internal deliberation, Neela reached forward, placing a supportive hand against his slumped shoulders. Her voice was low, a mere whisper of sorts. "It's not your fault, Ray," _

_She watched his ministrations halt for a split second, the outer corners of his lips being sucked in and caught underneath his teeth as he so liked to do. And for the first time, he made eye contact with her, his brown eyes gleaming under a threatening lace of moisture. He was pitiful too. _

"_That still doesn't make it right," _

_She didn't know how long they stayed there that night into the morning, or how long they kept that position. All she remembered was waking up in a rocking chair that next morning, facing an empty chair, and an even emptier baby warmer. _

_**November 2005**_

_She rubbed her eyes as she stood at the kitchen counter, pouring a lukewarm cup of yesterday's brewed coffee. Glancing about, she noted that they were in dire need of a good clean up. _

"_Neela," her head shot up as the front door stuck. In the dark, she quickly made it over, jimmying the dead bolt as the voice on the other side called her name again. _

"_Ray," she took an almost accusatory tone. "It's three a.m." _

"_I know," he shook his overcoat off before haphazardly dropping it atop the dingy couch. "I just wanted to check on you," he said quietly. _

"_Oh," her voice softened. "I'm okay," she shrugged. _

"_You sure?" he stood in front of her, one finger underneath her chin, giving her a full once over. _

"_Yes, doctor," she laughed quietly, batting his hands away. "Abby already gave me the full work up." She moved away from him and back to the counter. Pulling out another mug, she offered, "Coffee?" _

"_Nah," he shook his head, maneuvering past her and pulling out a kettle. "I'm just going to make myself some tea," He looked around the apartment after setting the water and chuckled. "You lie. This place isn't any cleaner than it was when I was still allowed here," _

_She rolled her eyes, nursing the mug in hand. "It is. You just can't see it,"_

_They were quiet again in the dead of the night, the dark dead of the night. She watched as the outside street lights illuminated their living area with a dim gleam, it struck his face causing him to look eerily calm, gentle. Shaking her head, she swallowed and one-handedly cleared off some clothes from the couch. He followed her, falling to seat at the other end of their shared furniture._

"_What happened tonight?" he tentatively asked, throwing an old newspaper on the coffee table. _

_She took a deep breath and shrugged. "I don't know. I ran into the building to get the little boy," _

"_Something that isn't your job, and while heroic, was incredibly stupid," _

_She gave him a pointed look, causing his mouth to snap shut. "I got him and when we were making it out, the floor boards gave in. There was so much smoke," she paused absent-mindedly rubbing her chest, "The next thing I remembered, I was in the rig, still clutching the boy," _

"_You saved him," she shrugged at his comment. _

"_He's still left without a mum," _

_Ray exhaled rather loudly, languidly resting his arm across the back of the couch, his fingers mere millimeters away from her Yale-Sweatshirt-covered shoulder. He drummed them silently against the ridge. With his voice low, and deep, he thoughtfully spoke. "You really had me worried." She couldn't help but be held captive by his gaze, shining with concern from the outside, fluorescent lighting. _

_Her face cracked a smile at his apparent anxiety over her, something she had grown to appreciate over their time living together. "I'm okay…but thank you," _

_His face now grew to a smirk, a Cheshire cat grin, that on anyone else would be deemed insincere, but on him spelled a genuine smile. "You're-"_

"_Neela," a groggy voice called out. She snapped up from Ray's gaze and followed his confused eyes to their alcove of a hallway. _

_There Michael stood, wiping the sleep from his eyes. "Erm, Michael got back a few hours ago," she quickly explained to Ray. He nodded, standing and reaching a hand out. _

"_Good to see you," he greeted. "I, uh, I should get going," _

"_Wait," Neela stood quickly. "Where are you staying tonight? You could take your room," _

_Ray smiled, grabbing his coat and walking to the door. "Nah, it's cool. I've commandeered an on-call room. I'm set up. It's totally good there," _

_She walked to the door with him and silently offered a smile of thanks. "Your tea?" she quietly questioned. _

"_Another time," he nodded before waving a final good-bye. _

"_Are you coming back to bed?" Michael yawned, leaning against the door frame. _

"_Yeah," she licked her lips. "Let me just clean up a bit," _

_And as she bent over to pick up, the loud whistle of the kettle sounded, shattering all coherent thoughts she had pieced together. _

_**March 2006**_

"_I need to buy a pie today," she huffed as she caught up to him. _

"_Why?" he identically asked, out of breath. _

"_Well, because," she shrugged, "It's Pi-Day," _

"_Pi-day?" he raised a questioning brow. _

_She pursed her lips, her sharp eyes shooting daggers as if her companion were mental. "March the fourteenth? Three-point-one-four? Pi? The area of a circle is radius squared times pi? The quadrants, zero pi, pi over two, pi-"_

"_I know what pi is!" He stopped in his place, face slacking to a deadpan. "Are you kidding me?" _

"_No," she defended herself. _

"_You want to buy a pie because it's Pi-Day," he reiterated, leaning against the side railing. _

"_Don't look at me like that," she punched his chest. _

"_Like what? Like you've just lost forty-one-thousand cool points? Because you did and more so," he laughed, dodging her second hit while circularly rubbing his bruised pectorals. _

"_Like I've just grown three heads," she harrumphed. "Keep on moving, we need to keep our heart rate up," _

_He rolled his eyes, moving to continue their jog across the bridge in Lincoln Park. They both found themselves off call that crisp spring day and decided that instead of lounging about, eating pizza rolls and drinking beer, that working out would probably be more productive, not to mention better on their physique. _

"_Just because you're a doctor, it doesn't mean that you have to be such a nerd. Its people like you who give us a bad name," He pointed a sweaty finger into her shoulder. _

"_Oh please," it was her turn to roll her eyes, "It's just a fun little tradition that I've done since high school. You weren't complaining about it last year when you devoured the chocolate silk pie I had in the refrigerator at work," _

"_One," he held up an index finger, "I didn't know that it was there for that reason. Two," he held up a middle, "Anything in that fridge is fair game. And three," his ring finger shot up, "It bothers me that you still remember that," _

"_Piss off," she muttered, zooming to a sprint ahead of him, causing a bruise to his male, testosterone-ridden ego. With an angry curse, he pushed himself full speed ahead, finally catching up to her at the lake. _

"_Tell you what," they both slowed down, taking a few swigs of water from their bottles. "I'll race you. Last one to the zoo buys pie and dinner for tonight," and with a second thought, he added, "And does laundry,"_

"_Deal!" She smiled and with a quick shove on his shoulder, Neela took off running ahead of him. _

_He grinned, checking his watch for a few seconds, stretching out his hamstrings and then began a leisurely jog to the zoo. _

_**December 2006**_

"_What are you up to, Jumbo Mart?" His voice caught her staring into her still cup of coffee. _

"_Hey," she spoke, offering him a seat across from her. He took it willingly, shoving a chocolate doughnut before her. _

"_Eat something. You look like the death,"_

"_Thanks," she feigned a grin before robotically biting into the fried chocolate goodness. _

_He drummed his fingers against the table, occasionally taking a sip from his steaming cup. The snow fell slowly outside of the window of the Jumbo Mart, causing the Christmas Eve night to look ever so picturesque. _

_He could tell that there was something wrong with her that night. But he was too much of a gentleman to ask. It was obvious where her desolation came from, without her family, suddenly widowed, working at an abnormally sad establishment. So he just sat with her, silently enjoying doughnuts with a friend. _

"_What are your plans for tonight?" he asked with a small smile, leaning his neck to catch her hidden eyes. _

"_I don't know," she shrugged, "Just staying in, eating some leftovers, watching some movies," _

"_Bah Humbug," he laughed, "That sounds festive," _

_She shook her head, "I'm not Christian, so Christmas isn't that big for me,"_

"_You're from England," he laughed, "I think you guys invented Merriment and all that crap," _

_For the first time that day, she smiled. "Yeah,"_

_Ray cleared his throat. "We got the kids in a group home," his voice trailed off in a hopeful tone. "So they can all be together," _

"_I heard," she leaned forward, placing her hand over his. "Thank you for doing that for them. Those kids, Teller, Paulie, Lizzie and her baby…they deserve more than what they've been dealt,"_

"_A lot of people do," his voice dropped, catching her muddy eyes. _

"_Yeah," she nodded, quickly taking her hand away, as if she had just been burned. She moved to finishing off her doughnut. "Do you have plans? For tonight? I mean, if you're not doing anything…maybe we could watch some poker and have some beer? For old time's sake?" _

"_Um," he pursed his lips and looking up. "Katey's kind of expecting me…but I mean…if you want to hang out. I'm totally game," _

"_Oh," she didn't have the energy to hide the disappointment on her face. "Oh…oh no. Go ahead, it's fine," she forced a smile. "I mean…I don't have a gift for you yet, so it would be a crappy Christmas Eve anyways," she joked_

"_It's okay, Neela-"_

"_No!" the negation escaped much louder and much more forced than she originally intended it to. "I mean, no, Ray. Go to her, it's – it's fine. I need to…I need to go and check on a patient anyway before I leave so…So Happy Christmas," _

_He stood as she got up to leave, his mouth falling open without words tumbling out. He couldn't find any to muster. So he did the next best thing. _

_Electricity shot through her as she felt him grab her wrist. Turning her head, she faced him, catching his smoldering gaze. "I haven't gotten you a gift either…so any ideas on a belated present? Anything you want in particular?" _

_She shrugged, systematically pulling her hand back to her, not being able to handle such contact. "Just shave off that horrid porn-stache, Ray. It's doing you no favors," she smiled, shrugging into her heavy overcoat. _

_He laughed, thoughtfully running his thumb and fore-finger over his moustache. "I'll think about it," He smiled, craning his neck forward and down to barely meet her eye level, "Merry Christmas, Neela," _

_With a nod of the head, she somberly returned his grin, "Merry Christmas, Ray,"_

_**February 2007**_

_Neela didn't know much about the after life, of the soul passing over. In all honesty, if she did think very hard about it, she was sure she was going to a place where not many actually wanted to go. But as she stood there, she figured that heaven must be a lot like kissing Ray Barnett. _

_She should have known from the pouty pillows that were his lips, that his kisses would be like tasting the softest clouds there ever were, that his hands, calloused from guitar-playing and cracking chests were meant to rest in her puff of black hair, that his skin was the hottest thing she had ever touched in her life. _

_She should have known, but she never did. _

_Until then. _

_Because there she was, finally, savoring him, cherishing him. If this never ended, it would be too soon._

_She didn't notice that the song on the radio had long ended and translated to a terribly cheesy ballad, and that the snow flurries falling about them had completely obscured the view from the wind shield. _

_She shifted in her seat, pivoting her bottom in the uncomfortable SUV, so that she could kiss more of him. It burned within her belly, engulfing her body, urging her to take him. This was far more than mere desire. This was visceral. _

"_Ray," she whispered against his lips, running her fingers along his hair line. _

_He chuckled, his breath hot against her swollen mouth. He cupped her face with his hands, thinking that he had never seen her so flustered and beautiful at the same time. "That was nice,"_

"_That was very nice," she agreed. _

_With all the gusto she could muster, she reached forward, gripping his hand tightly. "Come up,"_

"_What?" _

_She bit down on her lip, losing her nerve. "Come upstairs. You said it yourself, I won't see you at work for awhile…Come and stay the night with me," _

_He groaned, dropping his head back against the seat. Her eyes clouded with confusion. "Neela, I can't," _

_She stopped. Her heart stopped. Her breath stopped. It all stopped as she felt his rejection pound against her. "Okay," she said, rapidly moving to get out of the car. _

"_No, wait, Neela," he grabbed her wrist. _

"_Ray, it's okay,"_

"_Neela. No…" he ran a hand over his face in frustration. "I can't believe I'm doing this," he muttered to himself despite her hurt look. He leaned forward, holding her face, "Believe me when I say that I want nothing more than to get out of this car and go up there with you,"_

"_Then I don't know what's stopping you," she quickly spat, obviously put out. _

_He chuckled, "Because I've done all of that before – I've done the whole one night stand, sleeping together before anything else. And even though we have two years of crap behind us…I don't want to do this with you right now…not like this," _

"_You're choosing now to be a gentleman," _

"_Yeah,"_

"_Why?"_

_He shrugged, pulling her towards him, his breath soft and warm. "Because you deserve a gentleman, Neela, and that's what I'm going to be," he smiled before pulling her in for one last searing kiss. _

She shuddered, shaking her head, forcing all thoughts from it.

Those damn memories. She heard someone say once, that the only reason one held on to their memories so tightly was because they were the only things that didn't change when everything else did. Those memories were forever, even when nothing else was.

She thought being dumped so callously by the man she loved was punishment enough for her transgressions, but she never imagined her whole of being to be shattered so completely, mangled and broken beyond any form of recognition. She knew that she was falling, head first into the abyss. She knew that she needed to snap out of it, remind herself that she was Neela Rasgotra, headstrong, iron-clad, _English_, level-headed surgeon extraordinaire, connoisseur of a million other amazing attributes that she wasn't so sure she had anymore.

Not anymore.

Deciding that running to the roof was, indeed, a terrible idea, she began her trek back downstairs to her apartment. Finally reaching the door, she squared her shoulders. Fumbling with her keys, she quickly found one of two spares (that she had yet to return). With a click, she silently praised the gods for her lazy landlord. At least the locks hadn't been changed. Her dark eyes squinted at the waves of light that poured in from the barely empty apartment. She saw her packing boxes piled up near the bay windows, and the over head bulbs bright with fluorescent lighting.

What she saw next could only be attributed to her bleariness of the past thirty hours.

And in that instant, the most sickening wave of something rushed through her, like goosebumps and warmth and vomit-inducing nausea. For there stood a figure leaning ever so leisurely against her tiled kitchen counter, a smirking figure that oddly and uncannily resembled one Doctor Ray Barnett.

-- er --

Her heart couldn't take it. It was too much. It was all too much.

And for a few long moments, it seemed that all time stood still.

She blinked once, twice, fourteen times. And after the twenty-first blink, when the figure was still there before her, Neela gasped. "_Ray,_"

"Hey," his voice, rough and low in timbre, responded. It was scratchy, as if he hadn't spoken in awhile. Slowly and tentatively he attempted to move forward, before stopping and standing against the counter again. He cleared his throat, "Hey," he said again.

She bit down on her bottom lip as the walls that she built in the last day began to crumble around her. No, she would not cry. No, she could not cry. Not after a sixteen hour trip filled with nothing but gut-wrenching, salty, dehydrating tears. "What," she trembled, gripping the door handle for dear life, "What are you doing here?" Her voice was a barely inaudible whisper.

The room fell silent for what seemed life ages. She almost thought that he hadn't heard what she asked. She couldn't blame him. She could barely hear a thing over the deafening pounds of her traitorous heart.

"How – How did you get in here?" she stuttered impulsively, more for her own need to break the unnerving silence.

"The spare," the words tumbled out sheepishly. "There was a spare on the door ledge…like we used to do at home," there was something incredibly intimate about the way he spoke of the little thing regarding their time living together, something that struck yet another chord within her and, from what she could see in his green orbs, within him as well. It was only then that she noticed a photocopied piece of paper in his hands. From where she was standing she could see the telltale dark lines and curved writing.

"_Ray_," her voice cracked.

"Brett faxed it to me," was all her could say for awhile.

"I wrote that-"

"On your birthday last year, yeah," he nodded. "Um," he cleared his throat, pursing his lips in an uncomfortable manner.

There were so many questions swirling about her head. But only one came out. "What are you doing here?" she retched out again, this time allowing her eyes to fill with fresh and double-crossing tears.

He always hated watching her cry. They rolled down her cheeks and collected in a stream at her soft jaw line in a way that he suspected might have broken his heart a little bit. "I've had a lot of time to think, really, really think," Neela nodded her head, her dark brows furiously furrowed in concentration. She listened intently as he continued, "About everything…And, I'm a jackass,"

Her eyes widened. She instinctively took a few steps forward, leaving the door to shut with a heavy thud behind her. "No!" she vehemently disagreed. "No you're not, Ray,"

"Neela," he stopped her with her name, and a half smile that warmed her far more than any jacket ever could. "I am," He pushed away from the counter with more courage then, standing a mere few feet before her. His mouth moved to a knowing smirk. "I don't think I've ever once waited for a girl, or – or chased after a girl or anything stupid and sappy like that. But for some reason, I just can't stop it with you," He shut his eyes, shaking his head. And in doing so, gave her the time to look at him, really look at him. His hair was shorter, shaved close to his head. His frame was bulkier, built, more akin to the Ray she met years and years ago. And then there was his face, more importantly the look on his face. She knew the look her wore, for it was one that brandished her face one too many times. It was the look of a person who had weathered his fair share of storms, the look of a troubled man. It was the look of someone who was just a little bit tired.

"I'm _so sorry_," she managed to let out.

"I'm not here because I want you to apologize to me again, Neela," he admitted truthfully. She was always apologizing now. Ray hated to imagine the size of Neela's conscience. It probably had its own football team.

"Then why are you here?" Her voice garnered an edge of defense, finding a wall to build for her own sanity. She couldn't afford to let it all hang out only to be crushed again.

Not like he had.

"Why…after running away from me without letting me know, after kicking me out so long ago? Why now? Why are you here?" Her voice shook as she jutted out a defiant, albeit shivering, lip, trying so desperately to garner any bit of control.

"God," he shook his head, running a hand over his stubble-shadowed chin thoughtfully. Neela's heart twisted. She seemed to always love that distracted gesture. She noticed it countless times, when they were working, when they were dealing with a particularly difficult case, when she would accidentally leave the window open during a blizzard-ridden night. "You know after like six years, I still don't get you?"

Neela wanted to say that sometimes she didn't get herself either, but chose otherwise. She only nodded in a bittersweet way, afraid that if she opened her mouth, her heart would certainly tumble out.

"For a long time, I wanted to hate you," his whisper roared with epic proportions. Neela bit down on her bottom lip, so intent on fighting the urge to break down, even the metallic taste of blood did no avail to her teeth. She ignored the red plasmatic substance and focused solely on the man before her, however scathing his words were. "But I couldn't…I _can't_,"

"I'm sorry that I wasn't a better person to love," she choked out involuntarily, her last word hanging in the air like a slap in the face.

His face deadpanned and Neela allowed herself to stare him dead in the eye. The sudden emptiness in his eyes was so alarming that she was transfixed. For a moment, the need for air became secondary. She was held in thrall by his disarming, green stare, certain that she was looking her mistakes in the eye.

"No," he suddenly spoke, "That's not-" he shook his head again. "For the past year I've done nothing but try and try to go through the motions of life – of everything, trying to get to a point of _normalcy_, contentment, _anything_…anything to get me to be okay," he leaned back against the counter for support, dropping his head into his hands, "Anything to alleviate my detriment of fucking _sanity_," she flinched at his curse, the way his voice silently boomed.

"But I can't," his voice was muffled by his hands, "I can't get to _any point_. I'm just going around and around again in mindless circles. And it's like there's no hope. And as much as I try to scrounge up anything to hold onto, anything to feel, I just…I end up with nothing. I end up back where I started,"

Their dreaded silence hung in the air again. All she could hear was the heavy breaths coming from across the room and the soft hum the heater. She swallowed, the walls of her dry throat scratching each other in doing so. "Where-," her voice gave out with a crack, "Where was that?"

He smiled a bittersweet smile. "You…this…us," he motioned between them.

"Oh," she nodded her head dumbly.

He chuckled inaudibly. "I've always ripped you a new one every time you would blame _time_. But, when I was suddenly in the position where I held the reigns, I was even angrier because as perfect as it seemed, it just didn't feel _right_ at the _time_," he shook his head bitterly. "I was such a hypocrite,"

"You weren't…"

"I was a hypocrite," he shrugged. "But it took me so long to realize that timing has nothing on us. It's never _not_ our time. It should _always_ our time…it's _always_ our moment. It should have been simple…we were the ones who made it complicated,"

It took a good few moments for his words to permeate her thick skull. He watched in morbid amusement as the gears in her head moved rapidly.

"Neela," he took two slow steps forward. "I'm sorry,"

Those two words crashed about Neela like a heavy anvil, mercilessly shattering the wards she had built to inconsequential bits. Her shoulders sagged as the breath she didn't realize she was holding was expelled from her lungs. "You're-"

"Sorry, I'm so sorry," he said again, reiterating with a remorseful smile. "I'm sorry for doing exactly what I accused you of doing. I'm sorry for being such a little boy, for running away and being so immature. I'm sorry for hurting you. I never want to hurt you again, I will _never_ hurt you again," his voice shook with conviction. "Can you forgive me? _Please, _forgive me," His eyes seemed to be pleading with her, and she wanted suddenly to be able to give him everything that he could ever want or need. By the time he cracked a beseeching grin she thought she probably would have given him the moon if he asked it of her.

But the logical part of her kicked into full blast. She needed answers before anything else.

"How are you here?" her steady voice was a far cry from the turmoil beneath. "Where did you come from? Brett told me that you've transferred your residency, and he _wasn't_ allowed to tell me. So _you _tell me, Ray. Where do you live now?"

He couldn't help but produce a small smile at her nearly insignificant, yet omnipresent questions. Ever the curious doctor, Neela was an incredibly smart woman, once you got past the indecisiveness that consumed her. He shrugged. "Here,"

One second. Two seconds. Ten seconds of silence.

Her face deadpanned. "Excuse me?"

He cleared his throat. "I…I transferred residencies to Northwestern. I'm finishing up there," he nodded his head, doing his best to hold her gaze.

He swallowed the lump in his throat. He couldn't gauge the look on her face. It seemed that she was somewhere between running and hugging him and punching him in the face. In all honesty, Neela didn't know either. She clenched her fists tightly, her keys digging grooves into her smooth hands. She licked her lips, looking skyward. "How long?"

"What?"

"How long have you been here?"

He shoved his hands into his jean's pockets. "Six months,"

"Six months – You've been here since _June_? You've been here since June and you didn't tell me? No calls. No emails. No _nothing_," she bellowed.

"I didn't tell anyone," he quietly admitted.

Her shoulders slumped, crestfallen as her head shook. He watched as her eyes filled with new, unshed tears. "Why?" her voice cracked. It was a wonder he even heard her at all.

He shrugged. "Because I'm a masochist," he half smiled, "I tried to convince myself that I was coming back here to face my demons – that Chicago was my city and I wasn't going to let you run me out of it. But then I saw you running at Lincoln Park one day last August, and I realized that I wasn't as well off as I thought I was,"

Her eyes darkened as the gears in her head turned. He visibly saw her think. "So you've _seen _me? You've seen me and you've never said anything?"

"I wasn't really in the right place to say anything,"

She let out a growl of a laugh, crossing her arms over her chest. She bit down on her lip in a frustrated fashion. "You're right,"

"About?"

Neela whipped her head up, staring daggers into him. "You _are_ a jackass,"

"Neela," he finally mustered his courage and stepped forward, nearly closing the gap between them, leaving only a foot or two. "God I'm sorry for everything that I've done. I'm so sorry for putting you through all of this…I wish there was more that I could say. I'm sure it all sounds like a bunch of bull right now…But I'm so sorry,"

She shrugged, still hugging her arms to her core. "I know that you're sorry," her frigidness began to melt slightly. "So what now? I'm asking you again…why are you here?"

He shook his head slowly, shrugging with bloodshot eyes that were so obviously scorned with not only a lack of sleep, but a lack of pure rest. He somberly chuckled at the ever present question. And so he closed the space between them instantly, roughly pulling her to him.

"Because," he said huskily, "Because I'm tired of dancing around with you," Daring to stare into his green-tinted eyes, she knew she understood what he meant – side-stepping the inevitable, twirling about the truths, bowing down to the wrongs. "Because," he began, his voice low and incredibly threatening, "Because I. Need. You."

And then he took her lips captive between his. And for a mere moment, she could do nothing but stand there, shocked and thankful all at once. She was so tired from everything, so tired from their dance, so tired from their turmoil. But as she felt his lips caressing hers, she somehow was awaken and could do the only thing she knew was right. She kissed him back.

He tasted of stale coffee and hope.

She kissed him back with such fervor that he had to lean them against the closest wall for support.

It was not until they finally came up for breath that she did the only thing she could.

Neela wept.

She wept, erupting in full blown coughs and hiccups of overwhelmed tears.

Holding her so fiercely, afraid to let her go, he moved his mouth to her ear. He breathed the words that she so dreamed to her. "I need to be with you, Neela," They were mere millimeters apart. His eyes darted back and forth between hers as she doubled over in sobbing tears. He held the sides of her face, caressing her with the utmost gentleness, providing the support that she was so physically lacking at that point. He held her up tightly, making sure she heard what he was saying. "You're my heart, my love. You hold everything that's me. Every lyric, every ballad, every melody – it's all because of you. And even through all the bad things…you're what makes my life good,"

Ray held her the way she needed to be held, clutching her so close to him, afraid to let go for even a moment. He held her as if his life depended on it, and if he really thought about it, maybe it did. "I'm so scared," she finally cried into his chest.

"Why?" he suddenly pulled back. "What do you have to be scared of?"

She stared at him in a way that caused him to melt, her tear stained cheeks shaking from her shivering, swollen lips. "I'm scared of losing this, of this being a day-long dream. I'm scared of losing _you_,"

"Neela," he whispered against her lips, his eyes daring to make contact with her tear-ridden orbs. "You won't lose me. I won't lose you. Not after this – not after everything,"

"Why not?!" she almost yelled, gripping his shirt so tightly he thought he may fall over. "How can you say that after everything that's happened to us?"

He shook his head. "Because I love you,"

And for the first time that night, Neela smiled. She smiled so much that it hurt. She smiled because for the first time in all the years of their soap opera, it felt different. It felt real. And because she believed him, it felt like they could actually make it.

"I love you too," she reached up and pulled his head down to hers for another earth-shattering kiss.

And all the half-assed words she'd ever heard to describe this flew from her mind as he took her, dirty hair and all on her barren, not-even-hers-anymore wooden floors. She reached up, grabbing tufts of Ray's barely-there hair. She forgot everything, the past, the future, the hurt and the poor timing. She nearly forgot her own name. Because there she was, making love to the man of her dreams, not caring of anything else in this world but him. And for the first time in her life, she could.

It was only a time well later as the wee hours of the morning sun began to peek through her bay windows, after rounds and rounds of what she could only describe as earth-shattering carnage did the two decide to get off of each other. She had a stupid smile on her face as she watched him pull back his gray t-shirt, although in all honesty, she much preferred it off of him. After putting on some fresh clothes she found in one of her boxes (rather than her two-day-old scrubs), she pulled a throw from another package and wrapped herself in it, feeling utterly at peace.

"So, you moving?" he wiggled his eyebrows at her. And even after their night, she still found the energy to blush.

She snorted. "Looks like it, yeah,"

"Where to?" he leaned languidly against the counter, pursing his lips in his very Ray-like fashion.

"Don't know," she shook her head.

"Man," he clicked his tongue, "You know it's ugly out there," he pointed to the Chicago outside of her window.

"Is it?" she raised her brow, humoring him.

"Yeah," he nodded. "So how much do you pay for this place?"

She shrugged. "One-thousand,"

"A month? That's got to be some sort of felony," he snickered.

"Yeah, really funny, Ray. I don't even know if I still have this place anymore," she muttered, reality suddenly making its not-so-funny return.

"Well," he walked forward, a mere yard away from her. "I've got a two-bedroom sublet on North and Oakley for just a thousand a month,"

Her eyes just about popped from her sockets and for a few seconds, she lost her voice. "Wicker Parke?" she breathed, "You live in our old apartment?"

He smiled. "I told you I'm a masochist. And it so happened to be vacant when I came back." He shrugged boyishly, "So, you wouldn't happen to be interested?" he cocked his head to the side, "Five hundred's better than a grand,"

She pursed her lips. "I'll think about it,"

He bit his lip, almost charging towards her. With a swift move, he grabbed a box in one arm and wrapped the other about her shoulders. Kissing her forehead, he grinned maniacally. "Come on, Roomie. Let's go home,"

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There is one more chapter after this, an epilogue. I just wanted to thank you all tremendously for your support throughout this story. Without you as readers, i would not have been able to finish this. I don't think i'll be able to thank all of you on here - but please expect some private msgs soon! Thank you all so much.


	18. epilogue

**Title: The Hours Home**

**Author: BelleG08**

**Summary: You. You have taken all of me without giving any back. You have broken me down to nothing and yet you have shown me what it is to be alive. Ray/Neela/Simon**

**-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

**Epilogue**

She stood before the double doors, clutching her tote close to her sides.

It had been five long years since she'd been back here, five years of change, growth, lost weight, and life. And yet, through all of it, County General still looked the same to her.

"Hey there, Chief," Neela grinned as Archie Morris walked towards her.

"Hey," he smiled, pulling her into a hug. "Weird to have you back,"

"It'll be even weirder to be back without Lucien," she shrugged, walking through the automated doors.

"Well it was only a matter of time before he would up and leave for some crazy Tibetan sanctuary," he snorted.

She rolled her eyes. "He needed a break. And plus, I give him three months retreat before he comes crawling back." She shrugged her jacket off, throwing it over her arm. "He's too old to do yoga everyday without killing himself anyway,"

"Yeah," Morris chuckled.

"So," she started, leaning against the admit desk. "What's new here?"

"Well," the omnipresent Frank gruffly spoke. "Red over here is a tyrant. We have three new attendings who know nothing about the inner city workings. Four interns who have botched six things in the last twenty-four hours, and three residents who I would never want to treat me, ever. Oh and Brenner is still off travelling the world,"

"Shut up, you schmuck," Archie cut in, "Simon's still in Africa,"

"Oh," she nodded her head. "I heard that a couple of months ago. He told me that Carter wrangled him up, right?"

"Yeah, and apparently he's really enjoying himself," he smiled. "Guess he found his calling. What I would give to see that pretty boy roughing it down there. Who would have thought, huh?"

She laughed, agreeing whole-heartedly.

"So, will the chief of surgery ever have the time to take on cases from the little old ER?" Archie nudged her as they walked to the elevator.

"God I hope not," she joked, pressing the button. Neela shook her head, waving some hair from her eyes.

"Oh hey, how's Kiran doing?" Archie quickly asked her as she stepped into the elevator.

"Good," Neela smiled as the doors began to close, "I'm actually going down to see her now." With a small wave, she stood back, reveling in being back.

She reveled in the familiarities. The dull elevator music was definitely still the same. The ding sounded as she stepped off and made her way down the corridor. She stopped with a small smile, staring through the fiberglass windows.

The little girl stood, her hair haphazardly pulled back with a barrette and an oversized _Ramones_ t-shirt covering half of her body and her new pink skirt. She rolled her eyes.

She never should have left Ray to getting their child ready that morning so that she could catch a morning coffee meeting with Dr. Anspaugh.

Walking in, she stopped at the front counter.

"Kiran Barnett," the bruin doctor reiterated. "My pager, my cell phone, my office, my email, her mom's pager, cell phone, office, emergency contact, godfather-" she cut him, walking up to him and placing her small hand on his arm.

"One of us will be back to pick her up at five," She smiled graciously at the caregiver.

Gripping his arm tightly, she pivoted him. They stood side-by-side, watching as the little girl with brown hair, caramel skin and green eyes stood near the other children. Her heart melted when their daughter's eyes lit up as another child held out his hand to their baby.

"Maybe we should-"

"She's going to be fine, Ray," Neela assured him, "She's a big girl,"

"She's two," he spoke harshly. "Maybe she should just stay home with a sitter,"

Neela rolled her eyes. With one final wave and backward glance at the daughter who no longer wanted them there, she pulled him out. "Come on," she urged him, placing a hand in his and walking along the halls.

They strolled in pleasant silence, taking in the familiar way. It was nice, comforting, relaxing. "You know, we could make it a family thing and you could come back to County," Neela's voice lifted at the end.

Ray snorted. "And say good-bye to the nice, private hospital salary? Right,"

"Money isn't everything," Neela told him, jabbing his side with a finger.

"It's a huge part of it if you still want your new house and the ultra private preschool for your daughter and future children," he quirked a brow, throwing his arm across her shoulders. After a few minutes, they found themselves on the roof, the wind whipping their hair about as they huddled near the edge.

Their left hands held each other, the clinking of the rings on their third fingers giving them the ever comforting knowledge of each other.

"Are you happy, Mrs. Barnett?"

"Yeah," she smiled, hugging him closely, closing her eyes and just taking in the moment. "I am…I really am,"

And they really were. Because as they thought about their daughter whild standing, wrapped in each other's arms atop the one place that brought them together, Ray and Neela knew that they were home.

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I love you all. Thank you so much for taking this journey with me. Please be on the look out for more stories soon!


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